The Dead Are Online

Dina Roberts

The
Dead Are Online

Dina
Roberts

Copyright
2014 Dina Roberts

For: Tim, Jack, Max,
and Mushu. Thanks for all the love.

May

Chapter
One

MANHATTAN-It took
seven months for the world to decide it wasn't an elaborate hoax.

Eugene Ramsey had been one of the last to give
up his disbelief. Even when the President did his State of the Union, declaring
there was definitely life after death, Eugene responded by saying he had voted
for the wrong guy. Then he had asked, "Has the world gone mad?"

His fiancée gave him a dirty look, piercing him
with the brown eyes he used to find attractive. Anna believed. She had been one
of the first to get a message from the Great Beyond. Brought to you by Twitter.
Although she hadn't become a believer right just then. She thought she was
losing her mind. Eugene hadn't known about the message until weeks later when
other people starting getting messages.

Last May, they had been watching TV in their
cramped apartment decorated with taped up, ripped out pages from bridal
magazines. Eugene laughed at the fools talking about their messages from the
dead. Anna gave him a look of wrath, then told him she
was one of them. He thought she was joking at first. Then he wished she were
joking. Then they had a huge fight because she "didn't like his
tone”.

Is
it really condescending to say, “I believe that you believe it, Sweetheart. But that doesn't mean it's
reality?"

"No, I don't think you're crazy. I just
think maybe you're tired, and maybe you misinterpreted what you saw." He
had finally relented and said, "Maybe it's true. I don't have proof that
it's not. So if you believe it. Fine. We'll say it's true. We'll leave it at
that."

But no. It wasn't enough for Anna. She wanted
him to believe as fervently as she did. She can be an annoying bitch at times.

If only she wasn't so damn
pig-headed.

Oh well. It’s now all a moot point anyway. He
believes as much as she does. It was hard not to once the OS people started
using Skype and FaceTime.

One day, he was sitting there on the couch
typing out a review of a new Filipino restaurant. He got a Skype call, and he
was face to face with Sebastian King, that kid from his childhood neighborhood
who had fallen off a balcony while performing not-allowed gymnastics.

Sebastian’s
a brat, but when he died he was spoken of as if a perfect angel. Such is the
way of mourners.

On
their first computer chat, Sebastian had said. "Hi, Eugene. Long time no
see. Hey, your girl's right. You're wrong. Get over it".

He disappeared before Eugene's brain could form
a thought.

Eugene just sat there staring at the screen.

Then Sebastian returned. "Hey. One more
thing. It's fine to pick your nose. But then wash your hands before you make
the dinner.

Sebastian disappeared before Eugene could
defend himself. That's okay though because he really wasn't sure how to defend
himself. Sebastian saw what he saw.

How much does he see?

Looking back on it, Eugene thinks it would have
made sense for him to be happy there’s no end. Death isn’t the end. Life goes
on!  The heart does go on!  Celine Dion was right all along!

But Eugene wasn't happy after his visit with
Sebastian. He was annoyed that his fiancée had won this battle.

He doesn’t like it when she’s right and he’s
wrong.

On top of that, now he has to be paranoid. Is
Sebastian watching him all the time? Are there other ghosts with him? Does he
have any privacy?  Is he ever really
alone?

* * *

On his way to the Shake Shack, Eugene passes a
woman, with a table set up, selling her wares. Herbal crap.

KEEP THE DEAD AWAY. RESTORE YOUR PRIVACY!

The stuff doesn't work. Eugene knows that for a
fact.

Desperate he had tried it out last week. He
hasn't told Anna. Though she was quick to believe in the afterlife, she's
skeptical when it comes to any type of alternative medicine.

He made a tea with the stuff, which was a bit
of a mess. He doesn't usually drink tea; and the few times he had in the past,
he used tea bags. The ghostbuster tea was loose leaf.

He had to go online for loose leaf tea
instructions.

It might have been easier with a strainer
thing. Although some websites said they’re unnecessary.

The drink actually tasted fairly decent. Eugene
had expected to react like a character in a movie after eating a hangover
cure.

No. It had a nice taste. Kind of like red bean
with a hint of chocolate.

There were little chunks of herb that got stuck
between his teeth. That was a bit annoying.

What was a lot annoying is Sebastian appeared
while Eugene was writing an article about pigeons in the city and whether they
too had an afterlife.

"They do," Sebastian said.

Eugene glared at him.

"And those herbs don't work. Sorry."

Eugene refused to give up hope so easily. Maybe
it took time. He had drunk the tea only an hour ago.

But no. He learned through the week and seven
more cups of tea. It really doesn’t work.

He’s stuck with the annoying ten-year-old. The
one who wears an Iron Man t-shirt—Robert Downey Jr's version of Iron Man.

Once Eugene had asked him about that.
"Shouldn't you be wearing clothes from the 1980's?"

"I died in 1990," Sebastian said, looking hurt and annoyed that Eugene didn't
remember that.

"Yes. Whatever. But it's not like fashion
immediately changed once the 90's arrived."

"I can wear what I want," Sebastian
said. Then with a look of disgust: "You're in no position to give fashion
advice."

Eugene exits the memory of the annoying
conversation to see a teenager buying the herbal remedy.

He knows he should mind his own business.

Yet he can't.

"It doesn't work," he says.

"It works for me," she replies.
Defensive. She reminds him of Anna.

"Fine," he says. No use fighting it.

The woman selling the herbs jumps in. "It
works for most people. I have people coming here all the time to thank
me."

Yeah. Whatever. "Okay," he says

"Do you still feel haunted?"

"I am
haunted."

She nods with a theatrical level of concern.
"I see."

He takes a step in the direction of Madison
Square Park. Bye-bye Tea. Hello black and white shake.

And a ShackBurger. Of course.

Maybe fries as well.

The herb lady loudly sighs.

"What?" he says.

"It's probably a very powerful
spirit."

"And?"

He waits.

"You might need something a little more
stronger than the usual tea."

He decides to be polite and skips the
eye-rolling thing. He really isn't in the mood for this. And he has a feeling
Sebastian is with him right now. He'll probably tease him later about the whole
thing, so it's best to make it a short scene. Give Sebastian less material to
work with.

"I'll think about it," he says. Then
he continues with his journey to Shake Shack.

* * *

Eugene should be writing, but instead he's
lying on the couch watching Ugly Betty
on Netflix.  He has gas and lying in
this position makes him feel better—mainly because it makes him fart and
he needs that right now.

He lets out a really loud one and figures he'll
be hearing about it from Sebastian in the near future.

Forget Sebastian. If that’s possible.

Eugene puts his mind back on the show. He
wonders how Clare Meade would have reacted to a deceased Bradford Meade talking
to her on FaceTime. And how would things have changed for Betty if she could
chat with her dead mom?

Will TV shows start including deceased
characters?

What about The
Walking Dead? Where are the souls of the zombies? Are they off in OS land
while their bodies roam the earth?  Or
do you have to lose your zombie life before gaining entry into the
afterlife?

Eugene hears noises from the bedroom. They
upstage the performance coming out of his ass.

Laughing.

Two voices.

Anna and someone he doesn't recognize.

Eugene hopes it's someone alive.

Eugene pauses Betty, Amanda, and Mark.

He listens.

It's female.

He doesn't know her.

Maybe it's a cousin. Alive.

Maybe an old college friend?

"Eugene, you have to come in here! “Anna
calls out. "I want you to meet someone!"

"I'm busy," he says. He hates being
rude like this, especially since Sebastian is sure to criticize him about it
later.

"Eugene, come here"!

He stretches, sits up, and then stands up. As
he stands, he farts again. Loud. He hopes it's the last performance. He isn't
interested in farting in front of his fiancée's friend. Dead or alive. He isn't
even really comfortable farting in front of Anna yet. Maybe that level of
familiarity comes after marriage?

He walks in the room and peers at the screen.

A beautiful woman with black hair stares back
at him. Behind her, there's a poster of some rock
group, but Eugene can't see well enough to identify them. The woman looks like
an actress—the kind who'd be on some type of cult TV show. The kind
who'd sign autographs at Comic Con.

"Hi! You must be Eugene!" She's
bubbly and flirtatious.

She's also intimidating. Maybe condescending.
She makes Eugene feel like he's twelve-years-old.

"This is Melinda," Anna says. Then
the two women giggle. Great.

Eugene's ass wants to join in the party. He
squirms trying to keep it quiet.

Melinda winks at him. What does that mean? Can
she tell he's trying to hold in his gas?

And he still doesn't know. Is she dead or
alive?  How do you ask that
politely?

"So…uh…how do you guys know each
other?"

"She dated my brother in college."

Oh. Okay. She's alive. This is all totally
normal.

Two old friends reminiscing.

"But I was a mess back then," Melinda
says. The girls both laugh.

"She was a total mess," Anna giggles.
What's with this giggling?  He's
never seen Anna act so childish before. It's like she’s suddenly regressed.

Melinda looks serious for a second. Then she
bats her long Katy Perry eyelashes. "I was majorly depressed."

"Sorry."

She and Anna burst into more giggling.

"This is fantastic," Anna says.
"I love the new you."

"I love the new me too!"  Melinda glows with her self-love."
She jumps up and down and does a little clap. "You should join me!  It's awesome here."

Here? Where is here?

Anna laughs. "I totally should. But not
today."

More giggling.

I'm such a klutz when I cross the street
though. It could be any day now."

Melinda laughs. Then stops. "Oh, Eugene.
Don't worry. We're just joking. Relax."

He farts. It's a quiet one, fortunately.

Did they hear it?

"Ha," he says

Melinda’s an OS. Does he have that right?

It gives him the creeps that his wife is having
so much fun with one of them. Like this ghost is a normal everyday living person.
He doesn't like himself for feeling this way. Why does he have to be such a
tight ass? He should be more open-minded. Is he being any different than a
racist or homophobe?

"Eugene," Melinda says in her prom queen voice. "I want Anna to visit my brother.
He lives on Staten Island. They haven't seen each other in years."

"Fine," Eugene says.

"You're okay with it? Even though they
used to be madly in love?"

Eugene isn't sure how to reply to that.

"You're awesome," Melinda says.
"Very cool."

"Well, he doesn't know you're trying to
get us back together."

"You guys were so wonderful
together!" Melinda says.
"I think he's totally still in love with you."

How is he supposed to react to all of
this?  Cool?  Jealous?  Very jealous?  Should he yell?  Threaten?  Beg? Shrug his shoulders and give Anna
his blessing?

Is he jealous?

Maybe.

He isn't sure.

As for now, he's just annoyed and
uncomfortable.  Gas-wise and he's
also tired of the girly giggles.

* * *

Eugene lies in bed. Alone.

Anna is still talking to her dead friend. She
had been kind enough to take her laptop into the living room so he could have
the bedroom.

Eugene had always thought lovers were supposed
to go to bed together. Sex. Yes. There's that. But also just togetherness.

Anna almost always stays up later than him. If
he stays up later than usual, she goes to bed even later than her usual. It's
like she's allergic to going to bed with someone at the same time.

Or maybe it isn't everyone in general.

Maybe it's just him specifically.

* * *

He sleeps and has a fun dream, but then he
wakes up and his memories of the dream are too vague to think about coherently.

Anne comes into the room. Eugene sits up and
looks at the clock. 1:30. She has to get up at 6:30 for work.

"You need more sleep," he tells her.

"Yeah," she says.

After a pause, she adds.
"I'll be all right."

"Sleep’s important," he says. "I
wrote an article about it once."

"Yes, you've told me." She climbs
into bed. "I'll catch up on sleep tomorrow. It's not a big deal."

"Okay." He shouldn't get into a big
discussion about it. Then she'll lose even more sleep.

He closes his eyes and waits to get back to
sleep.

"Hey," she whispers.

"Yeah?"

"After work, I'm going to meet with
Kevin."

Who the hell is Kevin? Is he supposed to know
that name?

"Melinda's brother," she answers
without him vocalizing the question.

"Oh."

Is he okay with this? He doesn't think he feels
especially jealous. Maybe just annoyed. It's bad enough she spent all evening talking
to a dead girl. Now she has to hang out with the brother?

"You're fine with that? Right?"

"Fine."

"Good. Because I hate those controlling
jealous men."

Now she's being an unreasonable bitch.  He's suddenly less interested in
sleeping. He's ready to fight.

"So you'd be okay with me going out with
an ex-girlfriend?"

"Totally," she says without
hesitation.

"Really?"

"Why wouldn't I be?  I trust you."

He laughs for some unknown reason. Maybe he’s
caught Anna's giggling bug.

"Go out with an ex. It's fine. I won't
mind."

He has two significant exes. One of them is
lost in the world and he has no contact with her. The other is his Facebook
friend and annoys Eugene with her frequent updates about her pet rat. Plus, she
lives in Utah.  Does Eugene have to
invest in a plane ticket out west just to prove Anna’s wrong about her lack of
jealousy?

And he isn’t even really jealous. He doesn’t
feel threatened. He just feels Anna’s being rude. Bitchy. Disrespectful.
Fiancée's aren’t supposed to announce they’re going out with an ex and then
declare jealousy’s not allowed.

He decides to take the route of pretending to
be asleep. He hopes she'll play along.

She does for about five minutes.

Then she breaks the silence.

"You don't have to worry, Eugene."
Her tone's a gossipy whisper.

"Why's that?" he asks.

Another gossipy whisper. "He's gotten
fat.  Really fat."

How would she know that?

Again she answers an unvocalized question.
"He's my Facebook friend. I've seen photos." She laughs

Eugene knows she wants him to feel relieved and
laugh along with her. But it makes him angry. Why does she have to be such a
bitch about this?  "So the
guy’s gained some weight. It happens sometimes."

"Sure," she says. "I'm not
judging him."

"You laughed at him."

"No—"

"You did."

"Whatever. Forget I said anything. I'm
just saying you don't have to worry about me dumping you for him.”

"Because he's fat?"

"I didn't say that."

"What if I get fat? Are you going to leave
me?"

"No," she says. "But it wouldn't
hurt to watch what you eat a little bit."

He has an urge to slap her. But he really
doesn't want to be one of those guys.

"I'm going to sleep," she says.
"As you say—it's important for my health.

"Fine," he says. And he actually
feels guilty for keeping her awake. Even though it’s really her fault for
bringing up the whole subject. Plus, why does she have to go to bed so late in
the first place?

He tries to go back to sleep, but can't

He realizes he has to pee.

He gets up and does that, the light stinging
his eyes.

Afterward, he considers keeping the toilet seat
up. Anna hates when men do that, probably as much as she hates jealous and
controlling men. It would be a good act of defiance.

He leaves the seat up.

He washes and dries his hands.

He starts to turn the knob.

Then he stops and puts the toilet seat down.

He opens the door and finds Anna standing
there.

Their relationship is on the rocks, but at
least their bladders are in synch.

He lets her have the bathroom and goes back to
bed.

He thinks of something and decides to bring it
up when she comes back, even if it keeps them up even longer.

"How’s Melinda going to feel about you
laughing at her brother? "He asks when she's returned.

"What? How would she know?"

"She could be watching. She could be here
right now."

"No, she's not. She's an OS."

How dumb is she?  "Yes, she's an OS. She's a ghost.
She can watch everything you do."

"Like your Sebastian?"

He hates how she says your Sebastian. He doesn't want Sebastian to be his.

"Yes," he says, after a moment.

"Sebastian’s not an OS. He's an EB.
Earthbound. They're the ones who hang out here and spy on us.  Melinda’s on the Other Side. She's not
with us. She can only see us or communicate with us via a computer. If I close
the laptop, she can't get through”.

Why hadn't he known this? Eugene feels stupid.

It turns out Anna agrees with Eugene's
self-assessment. "How could you not know that? I thought that's what you
did all day. Research."

"Whatever," he says in his
I'm-really-pissed-off-and-close-to-hating-you voice.

"Be that way," Anna says. "I'm
used to it."

Eugene decides whoever advised people not to go
to bed angry lived in La La Land.

Plus. Really. What does it matter anymore if
one of them should die?

Chapter
Two

GAINESVILLE,
FLORIDA-Jessica Merrick sits on the couch, in
the apartment, editing her photos for Flickr. She has just gotten back from her
Mecca. Disney World. After classes had ended for the semester, she and some
friends took a short road trip there.

It was her second trip there since starting
uni. Her parents came up for the Australian summer holiday, in January, and
they all went together along with her uncle Jesse who claimed via FaceTime that
he was with them all the time. "Not while you're in the toilets, of
course!"

Jessica likes Jesse, which is nice because she
was named after him. He died when he was her age. A bad case of the flu. Now
Jesse splits his time between Melbourne and Florida.

He didn't go on this last holiday to Disney, so
she and her friends had been ghost free.

Then
again, that's not exactly true. Jesse might have been missing, but there were
likely a ton of other ghosts hanging around.

Jessica thinks of the Haunted Mansion ride.
Wouldn't it be cool if when your omnimover went past the mirror with the
hitchhiking ghosts, you saw the real
ghosts following you?

Jessica
figures they'll probably offer that someday. Just give it time. The impossible
keeps becoming reality.

She finishes editing and then asks Flickr to
begin the uploading. There's not much she can do now except wait. So she closes
her eyes, feeling a bit sleepy. Her legs twitch as she drifts into a
dream.

Then she hears keys jingling and the door
opens.  She's tempted to fake sleep
because she’s not in the mood for her roommate.

She's never in the mood for her roommate.

Although she used to like her.

Jessica met Taylor Jenson in the recreation
room of their resident towers. Jessica comforted Taylor who had been crying
because of a fight with her roommate. Taylor was grateful and enchanted by
Jessica's accent. She was very amused when Jessica said she liked her accent
too.

"What accent?"

"Your American accent."

Taylor looked bewildered. She never knew there
was a such thing as an American accent.  Everyone else had the accents.

That's the American way. A bit ethnocentric.
Still, Jessica loves Americans. How could she not? They brought the world
Disney World.

And….

Coke!
Jessica loves Coke. Some friends promised her a road trip later in the
summer to Atlanta, the home of The World of Coca-Cola.

Taylor and Jessica met back in October, towards
the end of the first semester, Taylor suggested they
move into an off-campus apartment together. She knew that Jessica wasn't too
fond of her roommates either.

Jessica hesitated at first. She didn't have a
lot of money to put into it. Most of her savings had gone into paying for
tuition. Her part-time job, at the campus frozen yogurt store, gives her only
enough for occasional treats (like the holiday to Disney).

Taylor told her that her dad had offered to pay
for her to have an apartment big enough for her and a roommate.  How could Jessica say no to that?

Well, she actually wanted to say no. It felt
weird taking so much. But then Taylor kept insisting. So Jessica finally said
yes, but she did insist on paying a portion of the rent.

At first, everything was great.

She enjoyed being with Taylor. At least a few
times a week, they'd neglect their studies and do binge-watching of their
favorite TV shows.

They were fans of all four seasons of American Horror Story.

Jessica had introduced Taylor to some Aussie
shows she downloaded from iTunes. They both bonded with their mutual love of Offspring.

They also downloaded Some Girls, a TV show on the BBC that starred Taylor's English
brother-in-law. Jessica can’t help but be thrilled that she’s rooming with the
relative of a celebrity. She tries not to brag about it too much (and usually
fails).

They almost always pigged out during these
shows. They'd eat huge bags of homemade trail mix or make giant sundaes.

Then Taylor started that diet.

She hadn't been overweight. She had been fine,
but she had gotten the idea she needed to be smaller.

Now she's very small.

Jessica looks at Taylor's stick legs as she
walks through the door. Taylor never wears her long skirts anymore, probably
because then she can't show off her skinniness.

"Hi!"  Jessica says, trying to be friendly. She
wishes she could like Taylor like she used to. She hates that things are
different between them now. Strained. She misses the times they watched TV
together. But Taylor won't do that anymore. Sitting on a couch and watching TV
is apparently beneath her because it takes away from valuable exercise time.

And it's not fun eating a giant sundae while
your roommate eats four small grapes.

Taylor returns Jessica's greeting. She stands
there awkwardly for a moment; then goes into her bedroom.

Jessica hears her pacing, which she does almost
constantly. She never sits down unless absolutely necessary. Jesse glanced in
on her once, and reported back to Jessica that Taylor does her studying while
pacing sometimes. She can't even sit down for that.

Sometimes the pacing will stop and Jessica will
hear another noise. The springs of the scale. Taylor weights herself several
times a day.

* * *

Later that day, Jessica sits on the couch
talking to Jesse on her laptop. Like always, he's wearing his long-sleeved blue
V-neck shirt. Jessica once asked, with as much tact as possible, if he had died
in that shirt.  No, he hadn't. He
can wear what he wants. He just really likes that one shirt.

She laughs as he attempts to sing a Cold Chisel
song.

"Your parents miss you," he says.

"I miss them too”. But it's too expensive
for her to fly back and forth. She's staying here for the summer semester. They
all decided, if she wanted to go to school in Florida,
they'd have to forgo live interactions for the most part. They studied the
budget and determined it was feasible for her parents to do one visit during
her four years and she'd do one back to Australia. Since they just visited,
she's probably not going return to Australia until her third year. Plane ticket
prices are astronomical. It makes much more sense to talk via the Internet.

"Hi Taylor!" Jesse calls out.

"Hi!" Taylor says back to him.

Jessica hadn’t see her
come in the den. She gives Taylor a little wave. Taylor gives a forced smile in
return. Jessica hates her fake smile.

"Oh good!" Jesse says as Taylor opens
the refrigerator. "You're finally going to eat!"

Taylor gives a little laugh. "I
eat!"

She does eat. Yes. At least she does that to
some degree. She isn't completely starving herself. Jessica’s thankful for
that.

Jesse sings again. Jessica watches him while
she also sort of watches Taylor.

Taylor takes out a bag of iceberg lettuce. She
gets a plate; then she takes out her beloved food scale.  She measures out a small bit of lettuce.
After that, with the salad plate on the scale, she adds a few drops of salad
dressing.

"You need some protein." Jesse calls
out from the computer screen.

Taylor doesn't say anything, but her cheeks
turn red. She looks annoyed. However, then she opens the refrigerator and takes
out some fat free mozzarella cheese. She adds a small pinch to her salad.  Maybe she listened to Jesse?

Taylor gets a diet soda. Then she returns to
her room.

Jesse and Jessica are both at a loss for words.

"She's walking while eating," he
breaks the silence. "She can't even sit down to eat."

"Are you spying on her again?"

"No. I can hear her from here. Can't
you?"

She can. Yes.

"I think one day she's going to figure out
a way to walk while sleeping,” Jesse says.

* * *

The next day, after work, Jessica takes a
walk—Just a casual leisurely one. Enjoying the weather. She doesn't even
wear her runners.

She thinks about a confusing customer she
served at the yogurt shop. Then she hears "Minnie's Yoo Hoo" which
her is her ringtone.

She assumes it's Jesse
again and wonders if it's weird that she spends so much time talking to her
uncle.  He's her age. Sort of. If
hadn't died, he'd be forty now. They'd probably have little to do with each
other. But now they're the same age and they're online mates.

This time it isn't Jesse on FaceTime. It's her
friend Anna from New York.

"G'day, Jessica!" Anna says.

"Hi!" Jessica cringes at Anna's
attempt at the Aussie accent.

"How's Florida?"

"Great. How's New York?"

"Wonderful.  When are you going to come visit
us?"

When would Anna understand she doesn’t have the
money to go flying around the States. She wishes she
did.

"Soon, I hope." Jessica feels bad for
being fake.

"You're definitely coming to the
wedding.  Right?"

When was that again? And no, she's not going.
Unless Anna and Eugene want to pay for her plane ticket.  She decides to make a joke of it.
"If I die, I can get to New York for free." If she said that to her
mum, she'd get quite the scolding. But Anna laughs…loudly.

Jessica and her parents met Anna and Eugene
when they came to Melbourne for a work-related holiday. Eugene had been writing
a travel article about Australia. At the time, Jessica liked them. She still
likes them, actually. They're good people. It's just
Anna is a bit full on at times, and because of that, Jessica is sometimes not
in the mood for her.

"Anything else going on?" Anna
asks.

"Not really.  Just taking a walk." Then she asks
about Anna's life, knowing the answer will keep the two of them busy for quite
awhile. Anna’s a talker.

Anna tells Jessica about an incompetent worker
at her temp company; then she talks about a rude client who borders on sexual
harassment. "Several of my workers have complained."

Anna tells Jessica about her recent fight with
Eugene. They seem to have lots of those. It's strange to imagine because in
Melbourne they got on so well with each other.

She talks about the wedding—the flowers,
the music, her dress, her shoes, the cake.  Blah, blah, blah, blah.

Jessica is very relieved when Anna apologizes
and says she needs to do some laundry.

Thank goodness for dirty clothes.

Chapter
Three

LONDON-Arthur Jenson
wipes his husband's kiss off his lips. It's not like he hadn't liked the kiss.
And it's not like he doesn't love his husband.  It's just the kiss had been a
particularly wet one. The lingering wetness tickles.

After the wiping, Arthur sits on the couch in
the den. He hears a rustling above him and looks up. It's one of Bernard's kites.
He has a collection and it dominates the decor of their humble abode.

Arthur
puts his feet up on the coffee table; then takes out his iPhone. He texts: Love you, Monkey butt.

A moment later he receives a text in
return.  Love you too, skunk.

Arthur smiles. He really loves Bernard, his
tall dark and handsome TV star.

He loves their relationship. He loves their
private jokes. He loves how they live here together in London.  He loves that they still kiss each other
good-bye in the morning.

They have a really good marriage.

Arthur smiles again with contentment.

Then he stops.

Because he hears his father's nagging voice in
his head. Who needs ghosts to haunt you when you have the cruel and annoying
living?

You think your marriage is good? the father-in-his head says. Get real. You've been married
fourteen months. Come to me, and brag when you've been married fourteen years.
You're living in a fantasy world.

It's easy for Arthur to imagine the voice and
words in his head because he heard almost the exact thing from his father a few
weeks before.

His father doesn't approve of the marriage. It
has nothing to do with it being a gay marriage. Actually, it seems that Philip
Jenson enjoys having a gay son. He likes parading his tolerance around Atlanta.
He's proud of that, almost as much as he's proud of his lifelong abstinence
from alcohol.

When Arthur first came out of the closet,
his father joined the Atlanta chapter of Parents for Gay Marriage. Within
months, he was on the board of the organization. Now he's president.

Arthur couldn't have an argument with his
father without being reminded how of supportive his father is. Philip
Jenson—Mr. Tolerant Father of the Year.

What his father doesn't like is that Arthur
moved to London. He likes having his family close. It was bad enough when
Arthur had chosen to go to school in Los Angeles instead of Atlanta.

Then there was the mess with the wedding.
Bernard wanted to get married in Bristol where all his family lived. Arthur
actually wanted that too, though he had no relatives in Bristol.

Philip wanted the wedding in America—not
Atlanta, because gay marriage is not legal there—but somewhere within the
great US of A. He wanted a gay wedding spectacle to share with his American
friends, colleagues, and various admirers.

They fought over all of this.

It ended up with them having two weddings.

The real one was in Boston. His father won that
battle. His weapon was the fact that he paid for 100% of the American wedding
and 75% of the Bristol wedding.

Bernard paid for the 25% of the Bristol
wedding.

Arthur paid nothing. He was a struggling actor
and a struggling screenwriter.

Bernard’s no longer struggling. He has done a
series, guest appearances on other series, and a movie. Now he's starring in a
new series—a dramedy about addiction. Things
are going well for him.

For him, the father-in-his-head says. Not for
you.

Arthur tries to ignore his imaginary
father.  It's enough that he has to
deal with the real version.

The father-in-his-head continues. He's going to
leave you eventually. Look at him and look at you. Your face is too round. Your
ears are way too big. You're too pale. Your voice isn't deep enough. You're
ugly when you cry. Your burps smell worse than what's normal.

The real version of his father has never said
this stuff, but Arthur's fairly sure he’s thought it.

Actually though, he has said the leaving
thing…to a degree.  In the midst of
a huge loud fight, during his parent's visit to London, his father shouted,
"What are you going to do when he leaves you?"

Later his father apologized profusely. He had a
huge gift tower delivered to the apartment.

A few days after that, his father sent one of
his financial planning emails to Arthur and his sisters. They receive one of these
about two or three times a year. Their father talks about family being his top
priority and that his favorite part of being so successful is sharing with his
family.  He then tells them he’s
gifting them a certain amount of money. There are "no strings
attached" to this money. All he wants is to know his family was happy and
well-taken care of.

Arthur doesn't know if it's his imagination,
but he feels there's a correlation between these huge fights, the emails, and
the financial gifts.

Arthur wishes he was successful and could tell
his father to stick his money somewhere.

But he isn't successful.  He's financially dependent on his
parents and his husband.

He has a job at a toy store. He works only part
time though. He had wanted to leave time for writing and acting.

But he hasn't been writing or acting. It's probably best
that he try to get a full-time job.

Even with a full-time job, it wouldn't keep up
his lifestyle in Kensington.

What if Bernard does leave him? Then Arthur
will be completely dependent on his parents.

Bernard probably will leave him. He's a successful
actor.  He's hot.  He has 174k followers on Twitter.

Arthur has only 83.

* * *

Later that afternoon, after brainstorming
screenplay ideas and coming up with nothing, Arthur walks to the Tesco on
Kensington High Street.

In their marriage, it's a given that since
Bernard brings in the dough, it's Arthur's job to take that dough and do the
necessary food shopping. It's up to him to keep up with the orange juice and
milk...also almond milk now, because Bernard has gone vegan.

Arthur isn't vegan. He isn't even vegetarian.
But he tries to limit his meat intake to two meals a week.  Bernard's pleased with this, but not in
an overbearing way. Arthur loves this about his husband. He gives kudos when
you do something that pleases him, but doesn't nag you when you don’t. He's
more into the carrot thing than the stick one.

Speaking of carrots….

Bernard likes carrots. Arthur walks to the
produce section, picks out a package of carrots, and puts it into the
cart.

Or Trolley. He should really stop being so
American about things.  If only he
could pick up the lovely accent.

Bernard can easily switch back and forth
between American, English, Australian, and French. Arthur envies him for this
talent.

Despite being an actor, Arthur can't do any
accent besides his original one. He can, however, do a decent imitation of a
hungry house cat.  And every time he
tries to sing, he does an impressive imitation of a dying house cat.

Arthur picks up some celery. Then he moves onto
the cereal aisle.

He picks up some Muesli for his man; then some
corn flakes for himself. They have different tastes in cereal. It's not that
Arthur doesn't like Muesli, but Bernard's brand has dates. Arthur doesn't like
dates. They're too sweet. Not that he has a problem with sweet food. He loves
sweet food. He just doesn’t like date sweetness.

He walks to the milk aisle.

He picks up the almond milk, and then the good
old regular cow's milk.

Suddenly, he has an epiphany. Why it comes at
this time...he'll never know.

It starts with an unoriginal unsettling thought
that plagues him periodically. He's going to pay for these groceries with money
that comes from his husband and father.

The job at the toy store?  Yes, you can say that pays for the
groceries. But then you have to say his dad and husband bought his clothes.
They also pay for cable, rent, electricity, restaurant bills, etc.

Arthur doesn't know how to stop depending on
other people for money. But it's at this moment he realizes he doesn't have to
take so much. He can minimize. He can stop spoiling himself.  He can be a little less of a mooch.

He puts the dairy milk back into the
refrigerator case.  It's wasteful to
get two types of milk. Neither of them ever finishes their milk. They each
drink about half; then throw the rest away because it's too much past the
expiration date.

They
can share.

Arthur then goes and puts away his corn
flakes. They can share the Muesli. Arthur will just pick out the dates.

He realizes though there's a bit of failed
logic here. Muesli doesn't go bad that fast. Bernard can finish it on his own.
Then he'll need more cereal. Is it really saving money to skip the corn flakes?

Plus, corn flakes are cheaper.

Arthur decides he'll buy the corn flakes.

No. Never mind. He puts them back again.

He'll buy the generic corn flakes.

He picks them up off the shelf and puts them in
the cart.

Then
he has a better idea. He takes them out of the cart...trolley.

He puts them back on the shelf.

Why not skip breakfast altogether?

How much money will he save if he forgoes his
morning bowl of cereal everyday?

The father-inside-his head laughs. Not much, he
says.

Screw his father. Yes, he's right. It won't t
save much. But it will put a dent in things. Plus, maybe it will help him lose
a little weight. He can stand to lose a few pounds.

Of course he'll have to eat.  Yes, he can skip breakfast.  He doesn't follow along with the
philosophy that breakfast skippers are on par with smokers and heroin addicts;
but he doesn't see much benefit in starving himself to death.

Yeah. Death.

Arthur laughs remembering the good old days
when death actually meant something. Maybe he should die.  He'd be cheap
then. Wouldn't cost anyone anything. He won't have to worry about making enough
money.  He won't need to be
supported.

"Who do you think would pay for your
funeral," the father-inside-his head asks.

Who needs funerals these days?

They still have them; though, from what Arthur
has read, they're different. The guest of honor ghost usually attends via a
large screen.  She or he makes a
speech. The guests make a toast in his or her honor. Then there's dancing and
reminiscing.

Arthur wonders if funerals are ever sad
anymore. Or is it just one big party?

After thinking about it for a while, he decides
they'd sometimes be sad.  It would
be one thing losing a grandparent or favorite coworker. But what about a child
losing his parent?  Even though Arthur
sort of hates his father, he knows he would have been devastated if the guy
dropped dead of a heart attack when they were younger. There was that time he
fell off the tree house. Arthur had watched him fall and he screamed in terror,
knowing he was about to see his father dead on the ground.

But Philip Jenson survived and Arthur had been
relieved.

As for his own death...

What would it be like for Bernard if he died?
Could they still have a marriage?

There'd be no sex.

It's
not like their relationship is all about sex. But it plays an important part.

Maybe Bernard could have sex with other people
and pretend they're Arthur.

A horrible thought creeps into Arthur's head.
What if Bernard didn't want to pretend his sexual partners
are Arthur? (Fortunately, this time the hurtful
thought doesn't speak with his father's voice)

Groceries. Arthur decides to keep his mind on
that.  He isn't going to starve
himself to death.

He'll eat. But he'll pay more attention to
prices. He'll buy the things that cost the least.  He'll look for deals. Maybe he'll even
start using coupons.

* * *

Arthur sits on a stool behind the counter of
Brainy Fun. He looks down at his phone to see if he's gotten any texts. He
won't hear them because he turns his phone volume off when working.

Nothing.

That's fine.  It's not like he needs to hear from
anybody. He isn't emotionally needy. It's just he's bored.

He's been here since 10:00. Now it's 1:30. There's been only three customers. Only one bought something.
The others were just hanging out. One had been a woman who talked to someone he
couldn't see.

In the olden days, it would have been assumed
she was mentally ill.  That was all
before Arthur's time, but he's heard about it. In his days, if a person talked
to themself and didn't look ragged, you looked for an earpiece. Usually they
weren't talking to themselves. They were on the phone.

These days mentally healthy people have
conversations with the unseen and no phone in site.

They'd talk to their dead friends who they know
to be with them. Though the dead can’t answer back until a good Internet
connection is available.

Brainy Fun doesn't provide free Wi-Fi. Mobile
service works. Sometimes.

Maybe other people simply forgot their phone.

You'd think they could simply wait until they
had a phone or computer. Why did they need to talk at the store?

An idea comes to Arthur.  Maybe they're faking it. Maybe they just
want other people to believe they're chatting with the dead.

It's a bragging point these days.

If Arthur wants to brag, he can say his
grandmother talked to him once.  It
was weird seeing her. She had seemed distracted and not overly interested in
talking to him.  He can't say he was
overly eager to talk to her either.
He liked her enough in life, but they had never had one of those overly
warm cozy grandparent-grandchild relationships.

Arthur figures though that he should probably
try again someday.  Everyone is
doing it these days. Why be left out of the fun?

Also, Maybe that's the beauty of all this.  If you don’t have the best relationship
when someone’s alive, there's a second chance once they've died.

He can actually FaceTime her now. His boss
doesn't mind it as long as there are no customers.

Emily had said when asked.  "Honey, if there are no customers,
I'm going to be bothered by the fact that we have no customers, not that you're
FaceTiming your gorgeous husband."

Arthur looks down at his phone.  He clicks on the phone icon, and then realizes
he doesn't know how to call Grandma Cornelia. The last time they talked she
called him. He looks at the recent calls.
He doesn't see any numbers that look…heavenly.

He decides to text Bernard: I love you, Monkey Butt .

He waits for a response.

He waits.

He waits some more.

He starts to feel pathetic.

He should do something besides wait.

Why doesn't his own Grandmother want to talk to
him more?

Why aren't other dead people contacting him?

Why doesn't he know how to dial the dead?

Why are no customers here?

Arthur's stomach growls. He doesn't feel
hungry; but maybe his stomach feels otherwise. He wonders if he should continue
with the skipping breakfast thing.

His stomach growls again.

He decides to turn up the store music. Just a notch.
Then he won't hear his stomach.

The Mozart stuff drowns out the growling.

He decides to pace a bit around the store.
Maybe it will make the time go faster.

He looks around the shop; straightens up some
electricity kits that were already straight.

He picks up a Praying Mantis
stuffed animal that fall on the floor. Fixing that causes three other
stuffed animals to fall.  Picking
those up keeps him busy for a few seconds.

He tries to wipe off a smudge that's on one of
the Brainy Fun informational signs. What was that? Jam? He hopes it isn't a
booger.

Brainy Fun has informational signs for all
their products. It explains how the toy will benefit the child's brain. Because
what parent would dare buy their child something that isn't going to help with
brain growth. God-forbid a child just have simple mindless fun for a change.

Brainy
Fun is an American company with a few franchises in London. Arthur's father is friends with the CEO. He used his connections to get Arthur
the job. Arthur wanted to get a job on his own. He had wanted the pride of
doing something without his father's help.

But the job fell in his lap, and Arthur thought
maybe it would be stupid to refuse it.

Bernard said. "You got the job because of
your father, but you'll keep the job and do well with it because of how
brilliant you are."

That had been a nice thing for him to say.

Arthur doesn't mind working there. It could be
worse.

Emily's a nice boss. She's funny, tolerant, and
very easy-going.

She's a bit too much of a Philip Jenson fan
though. She met him once at some business conference she attended. Maybe in
Japan? Arthur's dad had led a seminar, and then Emily had been
"blessed" enough to get some one-on-one attention from him.

"He's so down to earth and so caring. And
he's hilarious. You're so lucky to have him as a father. I wish my dad was like
him"

Emily's father, he'd later find out, is a drunk
with a gambling addiction. His favorite pet name for Emily is  "Bitchy Whore Girl."  So, in comparison…yeah, Arthur has an
awesome father.

Chapter
Four

ATLANTA-Jennifer
Jenson sits in the living room, watching the premier of the new season of The Voice with her husband.

Some of the blind auditions are OS’s and EB's.
The judges don't know they're listening to the dead until they turn around and
are faced with a large laptop screen instead of a live person.

The three judges are the usual living ones; Levine, Shelton, Green, and Aguilera. But each one of them
has two coaches that will work with their singing team. One of each of the
pairs is promised to be not-living.

Their identities haven't been announced yet,
but people are speculating.

Michael Jackson?

Buddy Holly?

A lot of people think one of the coaches will be
Whitney Houston. That's the buzz on Twitter.

Jennifer loves all of it.  She loves this new world they live in.

She was one of the first to get a message.

No one knows about it.  Even after it all became very public, Jennifer
kept her early conversation private.

What happened is there was this week where she
had all these self-doubts. See...she had always
wondered if she has a good singing voice. When she was alone, she'd sing and
the voice she heard was beautiful. It was like one of those contestants who'd
be fought over by three or four of The
Voice judges.

But no one else in the world had ever validated
what she imagined might be true.  It
could have been because she rarely sang in front of anyone. And when she did,
she'd often be nervous. Her voice would quiver and crack.

Yet there have been a few rare times she has
felt relaxed enough in front of Philip. She doesn't give him an official
performance, or anything.  She sings
when they happen to be in the same room together. Sometimes she'll sing in the
shower while he's nearby.

He never says anything.

Once she felt she was singing particularly
well. She sang that Idina Menzel
song from Frozen. She was quite
impressed with herself and hoped that Philip would be impressed too.

She wanted him to say something.

He didn't. After she sang a few lines, he
turned on the TV and then turned up the volume.

She thought of singing over the TV people, but
decided…well, what was the point?

She thought maybe she had been wrong.  Maybe you hear your voice differently
than other people hear it.  Maybe
all people hear their voices as she heard her own.  Maybe that's why you have complete
failures appearing on reality competitions. Maybe they aren't doing it because
they enjoy looking like a buffoon. Maybe like her, they really believe they
have talent.

Jennifer had thought about what happened in the
bathroom and vowed to stop making a fool out of herself. She stopped singing.
She didn't want to be a pathetic delusional fool.

Then one day she was on the computer. She
decided to see if there was any good celebrity gossip on Twitter. She scrolled
through the updates; saw that Adam Levine had
forgotten to bring his slutty jean shorts to something called Coachella and
Vanessa Williams had reunited with some trumpet player.

Jennifer also saw updates from her
children—Taylor gushed over a soap opera, Arthur promoted Bernard's guest
appearance on Sherlock, and Zoe
linked to a video on YouTube.

Then as she was scrolling through, she saw a
post: Why did you stop singing? You need
to sing more. I love your voice.

Jennifer didn't think much of it.  She saw it so fast and just figured it
was someone talking to someone else.

She kept looking through Tweets.

Then she saw a continuation of the Tweet. This
one was more specific. Jennifer, you have
a beautiful voice. The Tweet didn't have an icon photo next to it; nor did
it have any name to identify the Tweeter.

You know what she thought then? She thought it was
Philip sending the message. He was playing a joke. A nice joke. It was his way of saying, yes, I notice
that you sing. Yes, you sing well. Yes, I've noticed that you've stopped
singing.

She didn't think far enough to wonder how he
did it. At least not at first.  Then
she came to her senses.  First of
all, such behavior was so unlike Philip. He's never been into flattery. Second,
as far as she knew, he didn't have a Twitter account.

Like most people in her situation, Jennifer
questioned her sanity and their home's security.

Like some people in her situation, her
imagination ran a bit amuck. She thought maybe her guardian angel was looking
out for her.

She liked that idea.

Later she'd learn, in some ways, she was right.

* * *

Jennifer eventually learned the story of who
sent her the message.

When she was a child, in the 1970's, Jennifer
and her family moved to a house in Madison, Wisconsin. What Jennifer, and her sister,
didn't know (but her parents had) was that Trisha Morrisey, a teenager, had
been murdered in the house by her sister’s boyfriend. It had happened only
three years before.

Trisha haunted the house, but not in a bad way. No one had ever
suspected she was there. She was a nice ghost—though a bit of a stalker.

She had a certain fondness for Jennifer who was
ten when they had moved into the house. Contrary to what some people believe,
Trisha wasn't stuck in the house. She could leave anytime. She followed
Jennifer pretty much everywhere.

She went to school with Jennifer.

She went to birthday parties. She went to
doctor's appointments. She went to Girl Scout Meetings.

She never followed her into the bathroom
though. She also always exited the area when Jennifer was about to do "sex
things."

She saw Jennifer's happiest moments and her
saddest.

She saw times that Jennifer was lonely and
wished she could do something to let Jennifer know she wasn't alone. "I
really wanted to reach out to you," she explained.  "But I couldn't." Trisha
sounded very apologetic when she explained this. Regretful.

Another thing Trisha admitted was this. "I
wanted to stop your wedding.  I
wanted you to know that the only person Philip loves is himself. Though when
you first met him, I fell for his charm too." She laughed shyly.  "I even had a bit of a crush on
him."

Jennifer got somewhat defensive at this, but
probably not as much as she should have. "He's a good guy." That's
all she said. She knows she should have probably said more.

Philip is
a very good guy. He doesn't drink or abuse any drugs. He's gentle in bed. He's
never cheated on her. He never looks at pornography. He's never raised a hand
to her.  He's very generous.  He does so much charity work. He helped
her mom when she had cancer. He never asks for anything in return.

So he's a bit stingy with compliments. Maybe he
truly doesn't like her singing. He can't be faulted for that. It's not like she
wants fake flattery.

Anyway, if he's stingy with compliments, he
makes up for it in diamonds and emeralds. He loves buying her beautiful things.
And Jennifer loves having them.

Trisha's opinion isn't gospel. She's wrong
about Philip. She might also be wrong about the singing.

You
never know.

Philip
doesn't know about Trisha. She keeps that a secret from him.

It could be because Trisha isn't team Philip
and she worries Trisha will be upfront about that.

It could also be the fact that Philip's
resentful he himself hasn't heard from more not-living people.

He's helped a ton of people. He's paid hospital
bills, bought plane tickets, helped pay for weddings, helped pay for college
tuitions, has given grants, etc. Some of the recipients have passed on, or
their parents have done so. Philip wants to hear from them. Though they all
thanked him while living, he thinks now that they have a second chance, they
should thank him again.

He's especially angry with Jennifer's mother
since he paid most of her medical bills. She had lousy insurance.

In one of his foul moods he said. "Your
mother is an ungrateful bitch."

When her mother was alive, he had called her
"Mom." Now she's always referred to as "Your Mother".

Jennifer hasn't spoken to her mother much
either. She talked to her once. The conversation was short and sweet. Actually,
no. It was sad. Her mother had tears in her eyes and she seemed in a hurry to
leave. She also seemed somewhat stern, as if she disapproved of Jennifer.

Anyway,
Philip apologized for his harsh words. Not right away. When he first said it
and Jennifer burst into tears, he responded by saying, "If it weren't for
me, your mother would have had a much shorter life. And a much more painful
one."

Jennifer had gone into her office and closed
the door.

She cried.

Later Philip came in and said he was sorry. He
said he shouldn't have blown up like that. He shouldn't have been so harsh. He
explained himself. He has worked very hard throughout his life. Because of
this, he has a lot of money. The best part of having that money was he can help
people. All he wants in return is gratitude. When he doesn’t receive that
gratitude, it hurts him to the core.

He asked Jennifer if she understood.

She said she did. It made sense.

She apologized on behalf of her mother.

CHAPTER
FIVE

ATLANTA-Zoe Jenson gets
kissed. Not on her lips.

She's kissed on the forehead like a child. A
few strands of her frizzy red hair falls down out of place and end up brushing
up against Mickey Levinson's mouth. He coughs and gags a bit.

"Are you okay?"

"Sure," he says.

They say good-bye. She watches him walk to his
car; then Zoe closes the door. She places her purse on her crowded bookcase
right next to her collection of Anne Rice books. It falls. She picks it up and
sticks it near her Judy Blume collection. She waits a
moment to see if it will stay.

It doesn't. She grabs the purse from the floor
and puts it on her coffee table. Then she plops down on her couch.

She feels rejected, but also relieved. She
doesn't think she'd like being kissed by him.

He's a nice guy, but she's not attracted to
him. She's pretty certain the feeling’s mutual.

Despite the lack of love, they've been on four
dates.

Mickey works for her father's company. Joker
Jenson's Organic Condiments. They make Ketchup, mustard, salad dressings, hot
sauce, steak sauce, and other delights. In the upcoming months, they're opening
up a line of sweet products. Ice-cream toppings for the most part.

Mickey is in charge of that division. He was
promoted recently.

Zoe's father is quite fond of Mickey. He wants
him as a son-in-law. Sometimes he even talks to Zoe about the wedding he
desires.

Zoe does want a wedding. Her brother had two of
them and they were both fantastic. Their father is very generous and has the
money to make dreams come true.

Well, some dreams at least.

Zoe has a bit of a problem.  Well, she has a couple of
problems...related to her love life.

First, there's the fact that her father is so
keen on conjuring love in a place it doesn't exist.

The second is that Zoe's still in love with her
first boyfriend. Former boyfriend. Although, they had never broken up.  He had just vanished.

Their relationship started when Zoe was sixteen
and it ended when she was twenty-four.
Five years ago.

She still misses him terribly and no guy can
measure up to what she's lost.

The thing is….

The boyfriend lived in her dreams. Literally.

She had a whole separate romantic life when she
went to sleep.

They didn't see each other every night. There
were lapses— sometimes days, sometimes weeks, and sometimes months. Then
one night they were on a motorboat in the middle of an ocean. Her boyfriend had
been really quiet. She knew something was wrong. Then looking like he was about
to cry, he said he had to go away for a while.

In the dream, Zoe hadn't been too bothered. She
figured he meant he'd be gone a little longer than usual. The longest hiatus
they had before was two months and three days. She figured this one might be
longer.  Maybe four months.

Then when she woke up from the dream…well, she
was fine at first.  But while
brushing her teeth, she had this horrible feeling.  She felt all the happiness had been
sucked out of her.

She tried to ignore that feeling. She told
herself it was a chemical imbalance, and she'd feel better later.

And she did.

She didn't become clinically depressed. She
cheered up and went on with life.

She kept waiting for her boyfriend to return.

She clung to hope. That's probably what
prevented her from sinking into a dark depression.

She lived her life.

She still
lives her life.

She still hopes.

She still waits.

For a while, she gave up a bit. All that she
had left was a microscopic sliver of hope.

Now things are different.

When the contacts with the OS folks began, she
started to wonder if her boyfriend had been one of them.

In the past, she had tried hard not to ask
questions and just enjoy.

When she did ask the question, the obvious
answer would come to her. The boyfriend was a figment of her overactive
imagination. She was dating her own damn imagination.

Sometimes, she'd indulge in fantasy, and
suggest fun things to herself.
Maybe he was a guardian angel.
A ghost. Maybe he was her lover in a past life, or was some guy on the
other side of the world having the same dreams. Maybe he was from an alternate
universe. Perhaps an alien? Once she read a horror novel about demonic
possession and came down with the idea that her boyfriend was Satan in
disguise. Fortunately, this idea faded fast.

Her fantastic ideas didn't last long either.
They made her feel silly and stupid. Pathetic. But the realistic logical option
was depressing.

So that's why she didn't question things much.

She just loved him. With all her heart. In the
dreams.

In her daily waking life, she lived as normally
as possible.

If people knew what happened to her at night,
they might lock her up in an asylum. That's why she doesn’t tell anyone.

Well, she had told her sister when it first
began. Taylor had been only seven then. She seemed to like hearing the stories.
At first.  But then one day she
said, "It's all pretend. You know that Zoe, right?"

It was embarrassing to hear that from her
younger sister

She stopped talking about it.

Since then she hasn’t mentioned any of it to
anyone.

Once she almost told her mother. They had been
shopping together and saw a woman with her iPhone chatting to an OS or EB (or
so they assumed) in what seemed to be a romantic way.

They started talking about what it would be
like to be in such a relationship. Her mom joked that maybe Zoe would end up
marrying a ghost.

That's when Zoe almost brought it up. But then
she didn't. She was afraid her mom would laugh at her.

Could he be a ghost?

The thing is if he's a ghost why isn’t he
contacting her?  Why isn’t she
talking to him on FaceTime? Why isn’t he sending her messages on Twitter? Why
isn’t he commenting on her Flickr photos?

Where is he?

* * *

Did this dream boy have a name?

Maybe.

Zoe doesn't know.

She might have known the name in the dream, but
then forgotten it upon waking. If he was simply a figment of her imagination,
it's possible she’s never named him. In her waking life, she has always thought
of him as "the boyfriend". At one time, she abbreviated it in her
head to TB.  But that sounded a bit
too medical and she pictured coughing and Kleenex covered in blood.

Their relationship had no beginning. Not
really. Well,
Zoe doesn't remember a first meeting.

She does remember the first time she took real
notice of the dream.

They had been standing in line in a water
park.  He said, "I love you so
much." Then later they had been joking about something and laughing. They
ate gumdrops and raspberries. It was a fun dream.

It didn't feel like they were meeting for the
first time then though. It felt like they were old friends…very old
friends.

Zoe's pretty certain she dreamed about him
before that night.

It felt like their love had no beginning.  But sometimes…unfortunately…it feels
like it did have an ending.

* * *

On Zoe's fifth date with Mickey Levinson, they
have sex. It's quite a surprise to her; though if she
thinks about it not completely out of the blue.  She had shaved her legs and her pubic
area.  She had worn underpants and a
bra that matched each other.

Maybe despite the lack of passion, she figured
by the fifth date something had to happen. Or maybe she had some type of
premonition.  Maybe a little voice
had whispered to her in her sleep, "Mickey's going to do more than kiss
you on the forehead tonight."

The sex is fine for the most part, at least in
terms of technicalities. Body parts work as they should. She doesn't have to
say the TV show line, Honey, it happens to everyone.
He doesn't have to reply, but it's never happened to me.

Their bodies connect like they're supposed to.
They make the movements that are supposed to occur.

Psychologically, it 's a bit off.  Maybe a lot off.

Zoe keeps thinking about her dad.  She keeps imagining him watching and
making comments. Yes! He brought a condom. See how he's careful.  He's very trustworthy. Very prepared.
Just like he is at the company.

He even starts critiquing her technique. He
doesn't like that.  Try something
else. Be a little louder.  You sound
bored. Maybe he'd like to try a different position.  He needs variety. If you don't give it
to him, he might seek it elsewhere.

Zoe has no idea why she's having these father
issues. It keeps her from having an orgasm, which is fine with her. She doesn't
like having them. It makes her feel guilty. She feels like she's cheating.

Mickey has his orgasm. It doesn't seem
earth-shattering, but it can't always be. He gives Zoe a dutiful squeeze. Maybe
that counts as a cuddle? He hops out of bed and goes into the bathroom.

Zoe thinks about her father issues; then
changes the channel in her brain.

She thinks about her sex life.

There's not much there.

There's a lot more to be said about her sex
dreams. She's had a lot of them—almost always with the same man. There
was that one dream with Damon Wayans, Jr. Does that count though?  Because in the dream, Zoe was a man and
the two of them were having gay sex.

For the most part though, Zoe is monogamous in
her dreams.

In real life, Mickey is her third partner.

She had sex with her prom date.  She gave in to his pressure. As Mr. Prom
Date reminded her, he paid for the tickets and the limo. He had bought an
expensive bouquet of flowers and a
big box of Belgian chocolates.

Zoe's father had been very impressed with Mr.
Prom Date too. He likes big spenders—probably because he's one himself.

If she’s honest with herself, Zoe will have to
admit it wasn't just the pressure from Mr. Prom Date that made her decide her
private bits were open for business.

She was confused about her dreams. She didn't
want to cheat on her boyfriend. The thing is….that sounded crazy. How can you
cheat on a man from your dreams? How can you cheat on a figment of your
imagination?  So for the most part,
Zoe had sex to prove she wasn't crazy.

It didn't quite work because she ended up
feeling guilty and worried that her dream man would be hurt.  She worried he'd dump her.

He didn't. He had been fine with it. Well, not
exactly fine. All she remembers him saying is, "I don't like it happening,
but I've always understood it might." In the morning, when she had
remembered the dream, she couldn't remember if she had confessed or if he had
just known.

The second partner came about six months after
her boyfriend's disappearance. It was a rebound thing. Maybe she did it as an
act of defiance.

It was with her pediatrician. Well, her former
pediatrician; the one she had from infancy up to the age of eighteen.

She ran into him at the bookstore. It was quite
weird seeing him outside his office doing something besides doctor stuff.  It felt fantastic having him see her as
an adult rather than a child…a patient.

They talked and things clicked. He laughed at
her jokes and she found his funny as well.

She had actually been the one to invite him for
coffee. They didn't have to go far because there's coffee at the bookstore.

They talked.

Then they took a walk together. The weather was
nice.

They got into a conversation about strange art
work.

Mr. Pediatrician redirected their walk route to
his apartment so he could show her a bizarre statue he owned.

She was already very turned on by him and it
turned out the feelings were mutual.

They had sex.

She felt a little guilty. She felt a little bit
like she had been cheating. But for the most part, she felt like an abandoned
woman getting on with her life.

She had believed maybe there was something
there. Maybe she'd have a relationship in her
real life.

But then he never called.

She was a bit heartbroken. Or more
heart-bruised.  A bruise on top of
the broken, because she was still struggling to get over her dream boyfriend.
She wanted a phone call from Mr. Pediatrician. But even more so, she wanted her
dream boyfriend to return.

A few years later—two years ago—she
ran into Mr. Pediatrician again.  At
the same damn bookstore.

She tried to hide from him. She rushed to a
section away from him.  But then he
found her and apologized profusely.
It turned out the last time he had just recently filed divorce from his
wife.  That made Zoe feel quite
stupid and guilty, because she had never even considered the idea he might be
married. What the hell was wrong with her?

Yes, he had been divorced. It was all kosher.
Yes, he had been attracted to Zoe. But he realized he wasn't ready to jump into
a relationship. He needed recovery time. Yes, that was rude of him. Yes, he
should have called and explained. Yes, he was sorry. Incredibly sorry. He felt
like an ass.

He apologized a million times. Zoe needed only
the first. She wanted to get on with things. The thing is—she was feeling
quite turned on.

Eventually they ended up back at his apartment.

Sex happened.

She slept over.

They cuddled in the morning.

He made her breakfast. All he had was Lucky
Charms, which she thought that was a bit ironic for a doctor.

She left.

He called.

They had more sex.

They had dates.

She went through that stage of not knowing the
status of their relationship. Were they dating? Was he her boyfriend? When do
you use the "love" word?

Before any of those questions could be
answered, Mr. Pediatrician said he felt things were going too fast.

Should we take them slower?

"No, I think we should stop all
together."

Zoe was dumped. She wasn't too bothered by it. She missed Mr.
Pediatrician, but she missed her dream boyfriend more. Mr. Pediatrician had
sort of filled the hole. She could forget she was missing someone terribly.
Once he was gone, she was back to missing what she really missed.

After that there was no sex until what just
happened with Mickey.

He gets out of the bathroom. “Thanks for
that," he says, as if she had provided him a service.

What should she say? You're welcome? Or maybe
she should thank him as well.

She does.

There's an awkward silence afterward. She
wonders if she'll see him again.

Probably. Her father will make it happen.

He's quite good at making things happen.

Chapter
Six

SYDNEY-It's unusually
warm for late May. All week, Loretta Hollows has worn pants and her favorite
green hoodie. Today, she's wearing a sundress and her favorite thongs as she
walks to Parramatta Park.

She wishes she lived in a house, so she could
sit in her own garden. Maybe read a book.

But they live in an apartment. For now.

Her husband's doing well with work. William has
just recently opened up a second restaurant. If things go well, they might get
a house.

Loretta likes that idea.

She gets to the park.

She sees a young girl from her dance class.
Loretta waves and receives a smile and wave in return.

The dance class doesn't bring in much money,
but Loretta enjoys it. She teaches twice a week while her seven-year old
daughter Mia is at school.

She'll have to pick up Mia soon. In the
meantime, she'll relax.

She finds a bench and sits. She closes her eyes
and breathes deeply. She can smell the sun. Or at least she smells what reminds
her of the sun. It
feels like the Mays she used to know…way back when she lived in the Northern
Hemisphere.

In Australia, May brings in the winter rather
than the summer.

She hears her daughter Mia giggling. Loretta's
ringtone. She's gotten a text. Loretta looks at her phone and sees that the
text is from the girl who used to live in their Wisconsin house.
Just want to say hi!

Trisha is her sister's guardian angel stalker
friend. But she also reaches out to Loretta every so often. It sometimes seems
to Loretta that Trisha is simply trying to spare her feelings. Sorry I picked
your sister to stalk instead of you.

Loretta is fine with this. She likes kindness.
She thinks it's nice for Trisha to consider her feelings.

She sends a friendly text back.

Then she sends a text to her mother. She sends
one every day. They’re not answered.

Loretta has also tried to FaceTime her mom. Her
mom has answered twice. That's it.

It hurts.

It doesn't make her feel better when Jennifer
tells her she doesn't hear from their mother either. Yes, it does mean she
doesn't have to take the neglect personally. But it worries her.

Is their mom angry with them?

Is she in hell?

Did she break some rule and is now being
punished?

Did she realize, after dying, that she doesn't
like her family much?

Did they offend her during the last months?

Maybe she's angry that Loretta didn't move back
to America after the diagnosis. Loretta went back, but only for a few weeks.
She hadn't wanted to disrupt Mia's life. School and all that.

Their mother hadn't seemed angry about it.  She had seemed fine with the short
visit.

Even if she’s angry about it, it doesn’t
explain why she isn’t talking to Jennifer either.

Loretta gets another text.  This one is from a living person. Her
mother-in-law. Brenda Hollows has sent her a picture of their cat and dog
cuddling on the couch.  Loretta
smiles. She loves getting pictures from her mother-in-law, which is good
because Brenda sends out photos almost everyday.

The two of them are close. When Loretta first
moved to Australia, William had been living with his parents so she lived with
them too. They stayed until Mia was six months. Brenda and Tom insisted they
could stay, but Loretta felt bad about Mia's crying waking them up.

After they left though, Loretta regretted being
polite enough to leave. She missed them. She loves them.

Oh!
Maybe that’s it. Maybe when her mother was alive she hadn't fully
realized how much Loretta loves her in-laws. Maybe she learned in the
afterlife. Maybe she’s jealous and resentful.  Maybe she feels replaced.

It doesn’t explain why she’s snubbing Jennifer
as well.

Oh….

Philip!

Loretta knows something that Jennifer doesn’t.

Their mother hates Jennifer's husband. Despises
him passionately. She confessed this during a chemo session.

Loretta mentioned it was nice of Philip to be
paying for so much of the treatment. It's not that she had really wanted to
sing Philip's praises. The guy did enough of that on his own. She was just
trying to make conversation.

Her mother had gotten this furious look in her
eyes. Then she spat. "I hate that man."

"He's helped a lot," Loretta said.
Her mother's fury scared her a bit.

"Getting help from him is like making a
deal with the devil."

"Oh."  Loretta didn't know what else to say.

"I hate him more than the cancer."

Loretta thought that was going a bit too far. But
she didn't argue. It didn't seem right arguing with your mother when she had a
terminal illness.

So yeah. Maybe it has something to do with
Philip. Maybe their mother avoids talking to them because she's afraid she'll
end up seeing Philip.  Or maybe just the idea of one of them mentioning Philip terrifies her.

Or maybe she really is in hell. She was hateful against the man who paid for most of
her medical treatment.  Isn't that
kind of a sin?

Maybe hell isn't fire and brimstone. Maybe it's
just a place where you don't have a good Internet plan.

* * *

After Loretta picks her daughter up, she makes
both of them a cup of herbal tea.

Usually, she makes one only for herself, but
today Mia doesn't want to just help make her mother's tea.  She wants one of her own.

They use a berry mix: Bilbery
for vision health, elderberry for an immunity boost, orange peel for better
mucus and muscles, and red raspberry for uterine health. Well, for Mia it
provides various vitamins and minerals. At this point, her uterus isn't doing
much. Who knows though.  Maybe the red raspberry is helping her
uterus prepare for what's to happen in a few years. Maybe Mia will end up
having easier periods. Less cramps.

They sit in the living room sipping their tea
and talking.

Loretta's heard stories of children being
awfully vague when answering their parent's questions about their school day.
They respond to questions by saying things like: "I don't know."
"Nothing." "Nothing much." "Who knows."

Mia isn't like that...at least not yet.

She provides minute-to-minute details about her
day. It's usually more about the social aspects of school than academics.

What child had a new outfit.

What child looked tired all day.

What child cried.

What children made fun of another child.

What
kind of mood Ms. Julie was in.

What toys were confiscated by
Ms. Julie.

What new friendships are developing.

What friendships are ending.

She talks about all the fights.

All the tears.

Mia rarely includes herself in the
stories.  It's like she's less of a
class participant and more the class gossip columnist.

Loretta's not sure what to make of that. Should
she be concerned? She likes hearing about everything, though. Her daughter's
good at telling stories. Sometimes she worries she's encouraging a bad gossip
habit in her daughter, but then other times she tells herself she's encouraging
her daughter's talent in storytelling.

Just as Mia is finishing up her story about Matilda
tripping on her shoelaces and getting laughed at by Ted, she hears Mia giggle.
It's disconcerting because Mia has been very serious during the story. Where
did that giggle come from?

What's going on?

And it's kind of like her daughter laughed while
talking.

For a fraction of a second, she actually
worries about possession. Maybe one of the spirits is taking over her
daughter's body.

Then she remembers her mobile phone.

She lets Mia finish her story and then checks
her texts.

It's from William: Something's happening at the restaurant.

Mia giggles again. Turn on the TV.

Loretta's heart starts pounding. On the TV?
Really? It has to be serious.

She's about to turn on the TV when she hears
another Mia giggle. She checks the text. Wait
until you're alone. Maybe not for Mia's eyes.

Shit. What the hell's happening?

Loretta's scared, but also a little
exhilarated.

Well, she can't be too scared. She knows her
husband’s okay. That's the important thing.

Then she remembers other people. What if other
people are hurt? If they're dead, that's sort of all right…these days.

What about the business?  What if something's happened to the
actual restaurant? What if something from the restaurant caused a mass gastro
outbreak?  What if they lose business?

Loretta imagines she may have to kiss her
dreams of a house good-bye.

Mia has one more story to tell; one about
Shelly making her father's spirit a birthday card and Ms. Julie telling her
that needs to be done during free time. Shelly had cried.

After the story, Loretta politely asks Mia to
go to her room.

Mia's eyes narrow. "Why?  Am I in trouble?  What did I do?"

Loretta laughs a bit. "Nothing. I just
need to watch something on TV and it's not for Mia's eyes."

"Is it a sex thing?"

Loretta tries not to laugh and fails.

"I don't think so."

"I know about sex. I can watch it."

"I know you do, but I don't know if it's a
sex thing." Plus knowing about the mechanics of sex is quite different
from actually watching it.

"Fine," Mia says. "I'm
leaving."

She walks to her room; then closes the door.
She doesn't slam it, but she uses more force than usual.

Loretta digs for the remote control under the
couch and turns on the TV.

The Disney Channel comes on.  Loretta doubts she'll find what she
needs there.

She flips through the channels. What has local
news on now?  She's thinking William
should have specified a channel.

She flips slowly until she finds some local
news.

She soon sees the restaurant. It's not local
news.

It's national.

No. It's international.

What the bleep is going on?

The restaurant seems to be in one piece. No one
looks injured. It's
crowded. Packed.

The camera is focused on the flat screen TV.
It's usually sports on the screen…occasionally Home and Away.  Right
now, there are two young men talking.

Loretta looks closer.  She recognizes the boys. They're
fraternal twins that work at the restaurant.  Waiters. They also do some technology
stuff. They're the ones that designed the restaurant's website. They made it
possible for people to order their take away online.

William had also been working with them on a
commercial for the restaurant.

Why are they on TV now?

Why are so many people at the restaurant
watching them?

Mia giggles.

Loretta looks at her phone. William: Can you believe it?

Believe what?

Another giggle. This time it's not
William.  It's her mother! This is very bad. You need to put a stop to
it before it's too late.

What's too late?

The newscaster isn't helping. He's just talking
about the restaurant and giving a brief description of Parramatta.

Loretta gives up on the TV.  She goes to a news app on her mobile and
clicks on it. The app provides a list of the most popular international news
stories.

Number one on the list reads: Twin Waiters in Australia Contact Living
World Through Television.

But they're not dead, they're….

Oh. No.

Loretta clicks on the headlines and reads the
articles.

Zachary and Hayden McGrath had left work last
night, traveled over to Eastern Sydney, and jumped off a cliff.

No, they weren't depressed.

According to their suicide note, they were
tired of being waiters and were bored with their lives. They wanted something
more.

Something more?

They had figured out how the dead could use
TV's to communicate.

Now they're talking to the living via the
restaurant's television. Before Loretta can really process any of it, Mia comes
out into the living room.

"You turned the TV off," she says,
crossing her arms, anger in her voice.

"Oh.
Yeah."  Loretta says.

"You should have told me I could come back
in," Mia said.

Loretta nod; then apologizes.

Chapter
Seven

OAHU-Christina
Goldberg talks to one of the customers at Magic Dirt, her health food store in
the Kapolei Marketplace. The customer’s recently become a vegetarian and
worries about visiting his boyfriend's parents. They're big meat-eaters.

She likes having these discussions. It's her favorite
part of the job. She enjoys meeting new people and hearing about their lives.
She likes listening and occasionally giving advice, whether it's with her young
employees or the customers. Usually, people just want someone to listen. They
give themselves advice, she agrees with them, and they end up thinking she's
been a huge help.

Today's customer advises himself to stick to
his diet, but not be obnoxious about it. It won't help anyone to shove his
beliefs down their throats. If he acts respectful of their food choices, it's
likely they'll respect his.

"But does it mean I don't feel strongly
enough about it? Do I really care about animal rights that much?  What if people were raping someone at
the dinner? Would I just stand back? Abstain from rape, but respect their
choice to do it?"

Christina smiles. She likes it when people ask
difficult questions.

"I know I shouldn't compare rape to eating
meat."

"Maybe not," she replies. Another
customer walks into the store. Christina makes eye contact and smiles at her.
The customer gives a shy smile in return; then begins to browse.

"But why can't you compare rape to the
mistreatment of animals?"

"You can," she says.

"But some people won't like it." He
thinks for a moment. "I suppose one difference is rape is illegal. You can
argue on that. Meat's still legal."

"And probably always will be."

"Times change," he challenges
her.

That's for sure. "You're right about the legal thing," she
says. "I imagine it's easier to speak out when friends are doing cocaine.
It's different when they're drinking."

"You're so right!" he says.

"She laughs."

"So anyway—I'll behave with my
boyfriend's parents."

"Good," she says.

"What if I brought a vegetarian dish to
share?"

"Brilliant," she says. "I like that
idea."

"I better let you get back to work."

"It was very nice talking to you."
She watches as he takes his reusable bag full of groceries. She then leaves the
counter and goes to check on the other customer who's looking at bars of
organic chocolate.

"Can I help you with anything?

"No, thanks. I'm just looking."

"Okay.  Well, tell me if you have any
questions."

The woman nods. Christina starts to walk away.
She doesn't want to hover.

"There's one thing," the woman calls
out.

"Yes?"

"Do you have anything…like herbal…for...."  She looks
very embarrassed.

Christina hates playing mind reader, but these
days nervous customers are usually after the same thing "Are you looking
for a repellant? Something like that?"

"Yes!" The woman seems very relieved
she doesn’t have to spell it out. "But not for bugs or anything like
that."

"I understand," Christina says.

"I'm fine with bugs."

"Me too," Christina says. She's also
fine with spirits. But not all people are.

The woman's eyes fill with tears. Christina
hates that they might be tears of relief. Here comes the bad part. "I'm
really sorry," she says. "The truth is we don't really have anything
yet. A few people claim garlic helps, but I think they're confusing spirits
with vampires." She smiles at her little sort-of joke. The woman doesn't
smile along with her. Her tears escape her eyes. She wipes them off her
cheek.

"I'm sorry." She chokes back a sob.

Christina puts her arm around her. The woman
stiffens a bit, but doesn't pull away. "I wish I had something for you. Do
you want to try the garlic?  It
might help. And it can't hurt." She skips the joke about bad breath.

The woman gives a small nod.

Christina gently removes her arm from the
woman's shoulder. She points in the direction of the dried herbs aisle.
"There's some right over there".

"Thanks," the woman's voice comes out
as a whisper.

Christina goes back behind the counter. She
flips through her cell phone; sees an email from her Aussie online friend.
She'll read it later. First she wants to check her texts.

There's one from her husband. Can we FaceTime after you pick up Kayla from
school?

After that one, there was a second text. Kayla says hi.

How many times does she have to tell Albert not
to visit Kayla at school? She laughs at his disobedience. She has to admit that
she likes him breaking her rules to spend more time with their daughter.

She texts Albert back and
promises a FaceTime conversation.

He texts back a moment later. Kayla wants nachos for dinner.

Okay,
she texts.

No, vegan
cheese, he adds.

Tell her
to stop talking to you and get back to her schoolwork.

Okay.
Then a few seconds later: we love you.

And
I love both of you, she says.

She then reads her email from Loretta which
shocks her so much she almost drops her phone.

Apparently, that weird thing on the
news—the one about the twins committing suicide and then appearing on TV.
That was at her husband's restaurant.

Christina feels like a teenager as she writes a
simple OMG and then presses send.

She flips through various apps on her phone,
waiting for more customers.

She plays a trivia game and does quite well.
She plays again; then remembers the customer. She hasn't come back with the
garlic. Maybe she's found something else?

Christina walks over to the herb area and sees
the woman still standing there, gripping a display case. As Christina gets
closer, she hears the woman crying. Oh dear.

She stands close to the woman, but doesn't
touch her.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Christina says.
"It's okay. We all have to cry sometimes."

"I'm a horrible person."

Christina opens her mouth, ready to provide
some platitude to argue against that; but then shuts her mouth. She doesn't know
this woman. Her guilt could have merit. Not that Christina agrees she's
horrible.  A horrible person
wouldn't be so broken by guilt. But she might have done something horrible.

"She's my daughter."

"The one visiting you?"

The woman nods. "And I want to get rid of
her. What kind of mother does that?"

"I don't know," Christina says.
"But I doubt you're the first."

"She was…." the woman stops.  She can't say it.

"You didn't get along with her?"

"She screamed a lot. She threw things. She
smeared her…you know...her feces around the bathroom.  She took off her clothes in public.
She's get these awful bloody noses and she'd wipe the blood on the
walls."

"It must have been very hard on you."

"She'd pull out her hair. She'd gag
herself and throw up."

Christina keeps listening.

"I hate vomit.  I think I have a phobia. And here I had
to clean it up almost every day. I thought I might get used to it, eventually.
I didn't."

"I'm sorry."

"Her father left us. He couldn't handle
it. I needed to get away, but I couldn't ever find a babysitter. And I couldn't
even escape her at night. She woke up in the middle of the night. She'd want to
sleep with me. Then she'd wet the bed."

Christina feels very thankful for her healthy
beautiful daughter.

"She choked on a piece of hard candy. I
had told her not to eat them.  She
didn't listen."

Christina nods.  She's very nervous when Kayla eats hard
candy—always insists she's in the same room with her; watches her like a
hawk.

I tried so hard to save her. I did the Heimlich.
Over and over. I did the finger sweep.
I called the ambulance, and I waited for them to come. They took too
long.  I was desperate so I went
online and found something about emergency tracheotomies.  I used a knife."

Christina looks down at her hands. They're
shaking.

"There was blood everywhere."

Christina takes a deep breath. Now she's close
to crying herself. She really hopes she doesn't get any other customers right
now.

"She was dead when the ambulance
arrived."

"I'm so sorry." Christina can't help
it. She starts to cry.

The woman looks at her surprised; like she
can't believe her sorrow can affect others.

"When they told me she was gone, all I
could think was that people are going to blame me for her death.  They're going to think I let her die on
purpose."

"But that's not true," Christina said
quietly.

"No, but that's not the point," the
woman said. "The thing is my daughter was dead and I worried more about
what people would think than the fact she was gone."

Christina doesn't know what to say.

"Now she's back." The woman looks
around in a paranoid sort of way. "I think she was back before the…"

"But now you know she's there."

"I hate knowing she's there.  I hate knowing she's always been there.
After the funeral…I hate myself for saying this…but I felt relieved she was
gone. I thought I could have a normal life. And I did.  I could do it because I imagined Lenora
was happy in heaven—A little angel who was beautiful there when she
couldn't be beautiful here. She was okay. I was okay."

"But you found out it wasn't true."

"I should have known all along. I'd hear
noises. Crying. Things would fall. I'd lose things. Appliances would
break."

"She was haunting you."

The woman nods. "Now she talks to me. I
get texts. She takes out her phone and shows it to Christina.  One text says Mommy repeatedly. Another says You
bitch. Christina gets the chills. She'd want to believe children like that
were brain-damaged; that once they were released from their bodily prison,
they'd be okay.  You could talk to
them and have reasonable decent conversations.

"Do you have video chats with her?"

"Yes," the woman says. "And
sometimes she's okay. She's sweet. She says she misses me and she says it's not
my fault.  Other times she seems
confused, like she doesn't know she's dead. She asks me to get her a vanilla
milkshake."

"It's confusing for some of the
spirits."

"Sometimes she screams that I killed
her."

No wonder this woman wants a repellant.

"Sometimes she just sits there and laughs
at me.  It's almost…demonic.
Christina predicts she's going to have some nightmares about this conversation
tonight. "And now they're saying the EB's and OS's are going to be
appearing on our TV's. It's going to get worse for me."

Christina put her arm on the woman's
shoulder.  "I hope not."
She sighs, wishing there was more she could say or do.

* * *

Christina and Kayla talk to Albert while they
eat dinner.  Nachos with real
cheese.  Not the vegan type.

"Do you eat, Daddy?"  Kayla asks. She's asked the question
many times before.  She tends to do
that; asks the same question repeatedly. Albert is very patient.  Each time he answers her like it's the
first time.

"Yes, I eat.  But it's different."

"You have to imagine the food."

"Yes."

"And it takes practice."

"You got it, Kiddo."  He adds, "It's like when you eat in
your dreams."

Christina thinks about her own dreams. She eats
sometimes. The food never tastes as good as it does in real life.  She'll miss food when it's her time to
go.

"Do you eat meat or are you
vegetarian?"

Albert chuckles at Kayla's question. "I'm
vegetarian. Just because that's what I'm used to. But it wouldn't harm any
animals if I ate meat."

"Okay," she says.

"A lot of times I eat what you eat.
Because that's what I imagine."

"Okay."

"You know, when I move on…it's different.
I've heard there's more food there. It doesn't always have to come from your
own imagination."

"The Other Side?"

"Yes," Albert says.

Kayla gives a sad little sigh.  She does this every time the subject
comes up. "I don't want you to go."

"I can still talk to you."

"It's not the same," Kayla said.

For most people it doesn’t make much of a difference.
If anything they prefer the OS's, because then they feel they have control over
when they’re being watched. But Kayla's a medium. She had seen and talked to
her father before most other people were talking to their loved ones.

He had died in a car accident when she was
three. The visits began soon after the funeral.

Christina had wanted to believe her daughter
when she said things like, "Daddy's with us." She could have asked
for some kind of proof, but she never did. She didn't want to demand something
like that from her daughter. It seemed insulting.

Also, she didn't want to ask a question and
then have Kayla fail with the answer. Then Christina would know for sure it was
all her daughter's imagination. It felt better holding onto the fairy tale. She
liked imagining that Albert really was with them.

She did worry. She had times of
doubt—maybe it really wasn't a healthy overactive imagination or a normal
reaction to stress. Maybe it was a serious problem.

Certain teachers didn't help.

Kayla's kindergarten teacher suggested several
times that Kayla be evaluated. "It's fine to have a fantasy, but Kayla's
taking this too far."

Kayla's grandfather was a bit judgmental as
well. He didn't suggest mental illness. But the guy was an atheist.  He thought it best that Kayla not become
prey to the "afterlife delusion".

When he'd visit from California and Kayla would
mention her father, he'd offer various platitudes to distract her. "He
lives on in your memory." "He'll always be there." "When
you grow up, you'll tell your children about him. Then they'll tell their
children. He'll live on and on through memories."

Once Kayla responded to one of those speeches
with, "Molly thinks you're very silly."

Christina's dad had turned red with anger. He excused
himself and went for a walk.

Christina had fought back tears. Molly was her
twin sister.  She had died in a car
accident when they were twenty-two, along with their older sister. Christina had
been the only surviving child of her parents. Seven years after that tragedy,
Christina lost her husband in a car accident. She has bad luck when it comes to
motor vehicles.

Things are better now though. She has her
husband back in her life. In some ways, they're raising their daughter
together.

She has her sisters back;
her mother as well. All of them are now OS spirits.  None of them hang out in the living
earth world. But they keep in touch.

Christina sees Kayla's kindergarten teacher
sometimes when she drops off and picks up, and she loves the feeling of
vindication. She hasn't said anything yet, but has grand plans to walk over and
say, "Do you still think my daughter needs to be evaluated?"

She also feels vindicated when it comes to her
father; though less so. She feels sad for him. He's so confused. He avoids the
subject of death and spirituality. He hasn't denounced his atheism.

Even after the president proclaimed that the
after life is a reality, he said to her, "Scientists will be able to
explain all of this with a reasonable natural explanation. They just need
time."

Christina has a hard time understanding why
he's so stubborn. It's almost like he doesn't want to believe.

It makes little sense to her.

Kayla asks for more nachos.

"You must be hungry." She goes to the
kitchen.

Kayla follows.

"I want lots of cheese," she says.

"Did you leave Daddy on the screen? Did
you say good-bye to him?"

Kayla shakes her head. "He's in here
now."

"Oh, hi Albert."

Christina waits for Kayla to say he says hi
back.

Instead she says, "He's not listening.
He's singing."

Christina smiles. "Okay." She puts
the nachos in the microwave.

* * *

Christina had forgotten about the woman at the
shop, but as she lies in bed she remembers.

She feels spooked. She imagines the ghost child
is in the room watching her.

No, she tells herself. The child's attached to
her mother. It's not like she'd leave her mother and follow Christina home.
Right?

"Albert," she whispers. "Are you
there?"

She likes knowing Albert the Friendly ghost
might be around.

He doesn't answer. Or maybe he does. She can't
hear him so she doesn't know. She could contact him on her phone, but she
doesn't want to bother him with this. It's ridiculous of her. That woman has to
deal with the spirit all the time. And here Christina’s terrified of the simple
idea of the spirit.

She turns on the light. It's a little immature
to sleep with the light on. So be it.

With the light on, the master bedroom feels
much more benign.

She thinks happy thoughts: Kayla, Albert, the
nice man she met at the shop, chocolate covered cherries, jasmine green tea,
reruns of Charmed, baby alligators,
and her plans to visit Australia someday.

She falls asleep and dreams that she and Albert
are sitting in a library together.

When she wakes up, she has a happy warm feeling when remembering the dream. What's so great about
sitting in a library? She doesn't know.

And she doesn't know if the Albert in the dream
was a figment of her imagination or a real visit.  She dreams about him a lot, then later asks if that had been really him. Every so often,
he says it was him. And he'll remember details of the dream she had forgotten
until then.

He has said though that it's hard to visit
dreams. It takes a lot of energy. "It's easier to just use the
Internet," he once said. She gets that, but still likes seeing him in her
dreams.  She hopes he continues to
make the energy sacrifice every so often.

Chapter
Eight

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA-Dennis
Wang waits anxiously, in his San Rafael home, for the So Long Farewell Hauling
Company to come and take his TV.  He
needs to get to his shop, and it's a long commute.

He would have rather taken the TV over to
Goodwill by himself, because he hates being dependent on other people. But the
TV won't fit in his car. It's also too big for him to carry it by himself.

He notices then that one of the buttons on his
brown cardigan's missing. He looks down at the floor; then goes into the
bedroom to look there. He finds the button near the bathroom. He picks it up
and sticks it in the pocket of his gray pants, noticing a small grease stain
near the pocket. Then he looks at his watch.

At 10:00, he uses the landline to call Abby at Magic
Dirt to make sure she's opened the store. She's there. The store's open and
ready for customers.

He's almost always there to open it himself.
Through the eight years he's owned the shop, there’ve been few exceptions.

The men from the So Long Farewell Hauling
Company finally arrive. Their surly demeanor is a far cry from the friendliness
of the website.

One of them provides a limp handshake. He
offers no smile.

The other looks at their paperwork. "We're
picking up a television?"

"Yes," Dennis says. "I'll show
you where it is."

He leads them into the living room. He has a
brief memory flash—he and Nancy watching Homeland together, eating black bean burritos. They always ate
black bean burritos when watching Homeland.
On Grey's Anatomy night, they ate
orange chicken from Trader Joe’s.

Dennis doesn't eat any of those foods anymore.
He doesn't need them.

He doesn't need Grey's Anatomy or Homeland.

He'll be fine without a TV. He'll read
books.

He
reaches in his pocket and feels the small button. He twiddles it with his
fingers. Nancy always hated the cardigan. She said it made him look pregnant.
Yet she would have sewed the button back on for him.  The men look at the TV. They talk among
themselves. They make various groans and facial expressions, indicating this is
harder than they expected and they don't get paid enough.

"Can you do it?"  Dennis says.

For the first time, one of the men smiles.
"I hope so."

They take about ten minutes to get the TV on
their cart. The work seems way out of their league.

Dennis offers to help them. He feels dumb just
watching.

They reject the offer. Their insurance wouldn't
cover it.

He stands back and waits. He looks at his
watch.

Finally they get it done. He waits for them to
walk out of the room; then follows them to the front door. As they load the TV
up into the truck, Dennis returns to his landline and calls Abby again. She
says things are okay, and he says he'll get there soon. She assures him
everything is fine and reminds him she has taken care of things before.

She's referring to June when Nancy died. He had
taken four days off.

He had also taken some days off to help her out
during her illness.

That's all over now.

The men return, and he opens the door for them.
He signs some papers.

They drive away.

He's a man without a TV now.

He's already given away his laptop and smartphone. Months ago. He doesn't need them. He
uses a landline phone when he needs to talk to someone. If he wants to write,
he uses old-fashioned snail mail.

Tomorrow, he'll probably send out something to
his daughter and granddaughter in Hawaii.

He knows he should call them, but hasn't been
in the mood. They usually don't have much to say to each other.

June

Chapter
Nine

GAINESVILLE-While
taking her before-class shower, Jessica decides she's spending too much time
with Jesse and not enough time with people who still have flowing blood and a
pulse.

Then again...do they have a pulse? They have a body.
She sees it on her FaceTime screen. Jesse has a head, shoulders, eyes, ears, tongue. All that stuff.  From what she understands, it's all more
of an illusion. A guy in her class once compared it to special effects. CGI
stuff. You see it although it's not exactly there. It's not just the living who
sees it though. The dead see and feel it too. Jesse says he feels he does have
a body. He explained it. "Well, it's like how you feel when you're in a
dream. Your body is in the bed. Right? But you still feel like you have a
body."

So...anyway. Maybe a pulse is there as well.

She decides to ask Jesse about that later.

Jessica finishes rinsing her hair.  She turns off the shower and grabs her
towel.  She sniffs it. It's smelling
a bit dodgy. She'll need to visit the laundry room. Soon.

With the towel wrapped around her torso, she
looks in the mirror. Her shoulder-length blond hair is the exact same color as
Jesse's.  She examines herself
wondering if she shares any other physical traits with her uncle. Maybe?  She can't really tell.

She likes what she sees in the mirror though.
She usually does. And she's kind of ashamed of that. It seems there's some kind
of law that requires women to hate their bodies. She never has, which makes her
worried that she's vain. Maybe even narcissistic?

Should she be worried?

Maybe.

Right now she's going to stick to worrying
about her social life.

Maybe the problem isn't spending too much time
with Jesse. Maybe it's more about being lonely for living people. Her family is
super far away in Australia. Her roommate has gone home, and to Jesse's
surprise, she sort of misses her—even the annoying, sort-of anorexic
version of Taylor.

Most of her friends have gone back home for the
summer.

She talks to some people in her summer classes,
but nothing has really clicked yet.

"Give it time," she tells herself.

There's also the yogurt shop. She has Frankie.
He's fun. They make fun of each other's accents. His is very southern.

She's given him lessons on words that are innocent
in America and have quite a different meaning in Australia.

For
example: Fanny.  In America, it
refers to your behind. Add pack to the word and you have the thing some dorky
American tourists use to carry their hotel key, camera, and credit cards.

In Australia, fanny means vagina.

Then there's rooting.  In America, you root for your favorite
team.  In Australia, rooting equals
sex.

Frankie laughed at all of this.

Then they both remembered there's also the
opposite. In Australia, you wear thongs on your feet—what Americans call
flip-flops. In America, thongs are skimpy underpants.

Thinking about Frankie, she decides she should
take things up a notch. Maybe they can be friends outside the yogurt shop. She
should ask him to dinner. Maybe?

What if he thinks she asking him out on a date?

She's not.

Not that there's anything wrong with Frankie.
He's not disgusting. She's just not interested in him that way.

She just wants to be friends. Okay. He has a
bit too many freckles for her taste. Yes, maybe that's shallow, but everyone
has their own taste.  He's not bad
for having freckles and she's not bad for not being turned off by them.

Maybe
he's gay.

He
could be.

Jessica
hopes he is. It will make things easier.

Jessica
puts on her shorts and thongs (on her feet; not her arse).
She works at the yogurt shop in the afternoon. She'll talk to Frankie
then.

* * *

In class, Jessica's full of confidence
regarding asking Frankie out.

When they're together at the yogurt shop, she's
suddenly self-conscious about the whole thing.

It's not just about him thinking she's lusting
after him. It's worrying about rejection in general. What if he doesn't
want to be mates? What if he's happy enough keeping things business-only?

Still though. No point in being a coward.
That's not who she is.

So she asks.

"I was wondering if you'd like to have
dinner tonight. I mean after we close the shop."  She says it quite fast and worries he
might not have understood.

He looks surprised. In a positive way?  Negative?  Jessica can't tell.  She waits for a response.

Why is he taking so long?

"It's really nice of you to ask."

"But…."

"I'm supposed to talk to my mom, tonight.
You know. Online."

His mom is dead?  Did she know that?

Or maybe she's not dead. People still talk to
their living relatives online.

"Okay," she says.

"Sorry," he says.

"No worries."  She smiles and then gives her attention
to the customer who has just come in.

* * *

Jessica eats dinner alone in her room. Ramen
noodles.

She flips through Netflix. Maybe she needs a
new show in her life. That could fill the void.

Nothing catches her interest.

She's not in the mood.

What happened in the shop today?

Did Frankie have a real reason for saying no? Did
he really have plans to talk to his mum?

Maybe.

Then why didn't he suggest another date?  Why didn't he say, Not tonight, but how
about tomorrow?

Maybe he's a very busy guy.

Maybe he doesn't like her.

That doesn't make much sense to Jessica. They
get along so well in the shop.
Maybe he thinks she was being too forward and women like that repulse
him.

Oh. Got it.  He's a sex addict and is madly lusting
after her. He's afraid if they're outside the work setting, he'll go for the
attack.

She laughs at this; then goes back to slurping
her noodles.

* * *

After eating, thinking, and trying to study a
bit, Jessica gets tired of being by herself.

She FaceTimes Jesse.

They talk for a bit.

Then she turns on some music.

They dance alone. Together.

Chapter
Ten

MANHATTAN-Eugene sits
across from Anna at an Italian restaurant. He's not in the mood for Italian. He
wanted Thai.

Anna has won again. She gets her way a
lot, and Eugene’s tired of it.

Their wedding is less than six weeks away.

Yesterday they learned they lost the place they
were supposed to have their ceremony—the bookstore where they first met.

The owner had agreed to it. Loved the idea. Then
he decided things would be easier as an OS.

He killed himself and left the shop to his
brother.

His brother doesn't want to hold weddings at
his shop. If Anna hadn't called yesterday to ask a question about chairs, they
might not have known until…when?
Maybe the day of the wedding.

The brother didn't know about the wedding.  "Wedding?  We don't hold weddings here!  No way.  Out of the question!"

"But your brother—."

"My brother is dead."

"Maybe you should talk to him."

"I do talk to him. And that's none of your
business. No weddings. Do you hear me? No weddings!"

Anna relayed the conversation to Eugene. He's
not sure what's true and what's exaggerated.

She suggested they go out to dinner to discuss
things.

Eating out together has become rare for them,
especially on weeknights.  Anna
usually eats at work…while working. Or she goes out with workmates. Eugene eats
on his own, sometimes a frozen meal.
Often he picks something up from nearby.

"So what do you think we should do?"
Eugene says. He knows what he thinks they should do, but he wants her to be the
one to say it.

"I have an idea," she says. "You
might not like it."

He doesn't like it, but he knows it's for the
best.

"We can have the ceremony at my
office."

What? This isn't what he had expected.
"I thought…."

"You thought what?"

"Well, you don't think it's an omen?  The bookstore?  The suicide?"

"There's been a lot of suicide
lately," Anna says. "It's nothing special."

Eugene has the sudden feeling that he's being
watched. He figures Sebastian has joined them. Great. Just what he needs at
this point.

"Sebastian’s here?" Anna says.

Eugene looks at his fiancée with bewilderment.
"You can sense him too?"

She shakes her head. "No, but you get a
certain look when you feel he's there."

He's surprised. He didn't know she noticed
things like that.

"Maybe it's just
gas," he jokes.

She doesn't laugh. She looks bored.

What kind of marriage is this going to be?

It shouldn't be. Period. And he most certainly doesn't
want to get married in her goddamn office.

If she's not going to say it, he will.
"This is wrong."

"What?" she says.
"Sebastian?"

"No."

"The calamari?"

"No!"

"I'm not in the mood for guessing
games," she says.
She's never in the mood for anything fun. At least not with
him. Not that this particular guessing game is fun...or meant to be fun.

He thinks about how Anna does have fun
with other people. She definitely has
plenty of fun with her OS friend Melinda. They talk to each other a lot lately.
He thought it would be over when Anna didn't end up dumping him for Melinda's
Staten Island brother. But no. They're still friends. They still laugh in that
way that makes Eugene feel stupid.

"What is it, Eugene?" Anna brings him
back to the present. "Stop playing guessing games and just tell me."

He takes a deep breath; then speaks. "We
should call the off the wedding."

She stares at him.

He continues. "You know it. I know
it."

Eugene expects her to look sad, but
relieved.  He did not expect the furious
look on her face.

"Are you fucking insane?" she says it
a bit too loud. The room gets quiet. The people stare.

"Do you know how much money I've put into
this?" she demands.

"You put into it?"  He wants to strangle her. And he wants
to strangle her back in a time when dead might have equaled gone forever…eaten
by worms.

"Oh, little baby doesn't like that his
fiancée makes more money than him."

"Fuck you." To his extreme shame, his
voice cracks.  He's going to start
crying.  Shit.  Shit. Shit.

Anna sighs. "Look. It doesn't matter.
We've both put a lot of money into this. And so have my parents. We're not
calling it off.  People have already
bought plane tickets."

She's right. How did they get into this mess?

Anna continues. "It would be humiliating
to cancel.  Please don't do this to
me."

"We don't love each other," he says.
To his surprise, he wants her to argue against that.

"Probably not," she says. "Look.
We'll get married. We'll fake it. We'll have the party. Everyone will have fun.
I can wear my dress. Then we'll get a divorce."

Eugene can't believe this is happening.  He wonders what Sebastian will say about
it later.

"We don't have kids.  It's not a big deal." She laughs a
bit, as if trying to lighten the mood. "We don't even have a cat."

"We have the Titanic coffee table
book."

"You can have it," she says.
"I'm not really into it."

That hurts.  The Titanic was one of the few interests
they shared together. What?  So it
was all a lie?

"How about the Opera House
paperweight?"

"Can I have it?"  Anna says.

Eugene says yes after realizing he enjoyed the
actual trip more than the paperweight. But now those memories are soured.

Life sucks.

"Let's get done with the wedding
stuff," Anna tells him. "Then we'll work on the divorce."

"Fine."

The waiter comes with their main courses.

They quietly eat without talking or looking at
each other.

Chapter
Eleven

LONDON-Arthur cleans
up the kitchen while Bernard sleeps on the couch. Arthur decides not to be
annoyed that he's cooked and is now doing the cleaning. Bernard's had a long
day. Twelve hours on the set. Arthur worked too, but only for seven hours.

Besides, Bernard had offered to pick up
something.

Arthur was game for that. He was really craving
Indian.

He ended up declining the offer though. Eating
out costs a lot. Cooking saves money.

He made vegan chili and some garlic bread.

It all came out fine. He's getting better at
cooking. He's
getting better at saving money.

Last week, he gave up giving up breakfast when
he realized he made up for it elsewhere. He wasn't saving money or saving
calories.

Now he's smarter about things.

He's lost two pounds. Bernard hasn't noticed.
That's okay. It's only two pounds.

Arthur finishes washing dishes and turns off
the water.  Now he can hear Bernard
snoring. What would his fans think about that?

He walks into the den, takes his phone out of
his pocket, and videotapes Bernard snoring. He uploads the video to YouTube;
then posts a link on Twitter.

He exits his wicked daydream with a grin. If he
ever gets mad at his husband….

No. Arthur would never sink that low.

Bernard farts.

Arthur laughs, perhaps too loudly.

Bernard wakes up.  He looks disoriented. "What?"
He meets Arthur's eyes and smiles. "Hi."

"Hello."

"Sorry I fell asleep."

Arthur likes how he presents it as an accident.
What does Bernard expect to happen if he lies down on the couch after a big
meal? "Don't worry about it."

Bernard slowly sits up.  "I'll do the dishes."

"Already done," he says; then quickly
adds. "You must be exhausted."

"You're too good to me."

Arthur smiles.

"What are we going to do when you get your
big break and you're too busy to take care of me?"

"As if that will ever happen."

"It will," Bernard says with
conviction. "You have to believe in yourself."

"I do," Arthur says.  He doesn't.  But he's not in the mood for a pep talk
from his successful husband. Sometimes it feels too…charitable.

He hears his phone ring from the side table. He
picks it up. It's his dad. Arthur should answer, but he doesn't.

He puts the phone down.

Bernard looks at him for an explanation.

"My dad.  I'll call him later."

Bernard reaches out and takes his hand. He
pulls Arthur down.

They sit on the couch together.

Bernard kisses Arthur. He whispers in his ear.
"I love you."

Arthur kisses him back.  He tries to be passionate, but loses his
drive. The problem is he's just realized he has to shit.

Or maybe it's only a fart.

He did just have chili.

He doesn't want to fart while kissing.

He's totally comfortable farting in front of
his husband. Usually. But not during sex. That's just not right.

"Excuse me," Arthur says, pulling
away. "Have to use the toilet."

"I'll be waiting," Bernard says in
his sex voice. It seems misplaced in this particular context. It's not like
Arthur said he's going to go and slip into something more comfortable.

Should he warn Bernard that it might be
awhile?

No, not a good idea.  It will ruin the mood even more. And
what if it's a false alarm?

* * *

It's not a false alarm.

Arthur is in the bathroom for many minutes.

He calls out midway through. "Sorry. I'll
be out soon."

"No worries!" Bernard calls back.

But when he finally gets out, Bernard is
talking to his ghost sister on Skype. In the olden days, Bernard and Sandy were
close in age. Now she's a child while he's a man. She tries to look older by
wearing a pantsuit and a sophisticated hairstyle, but it just makes her look
like a child playing dress-up.

Sandy sees Arthur in the room and gives a little
wave. He waves back.

"One minute," Bernard mouths to him.

"Maybe we'll get back to it
tomorrow," Arthur suggests.

"Do you mind?"  Bernard asks.

Arthur wonders what Bernard would say if he
responded with, "Yes I mind. You led me on. Stop talking to your ghost
sister and make love to me now."

Truth is he doesn't mind.

He's not really in the mood, anyway.

He goes into the bedroom with his phone. He'll call his dad
back.

No, he doesn't want to.

He doesn't like talking to his father.

But what if there's some kind of problem? An
emergency? What if his mom's sick? What if something happened to Zoe or Taylor?

No, it's probably something trivial.

Maybe his dad wants to brag about something. He
does that a lot.

Is it horrible for him to not return a call
from his father?

Yes, definitely.

He'll call him back sometime. Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe he'll pretend to get confused about time
zones and leave a return message in the morning. That way it will be in the middle
of the night in Atlanta. International phone tag is a good way to avoid talking
to someone.

Arthur decides he'll be a good son and call his
father back.  Eventually. For now,
he'll make up for his avoidance by calling another family member.

He hasn't talked to Zoe in a while.

He's about to call when the phone rings again.

It's his dad.

He can ignore a phone call once with minimal
guilt.  Two calls is another story.

He answers. "Hi Dad."

"Hello!"  His dad says with the same enthusiastic
voice he uses for company speeches. "How's my favorite son?"

Ha ha.

Arthur tells his father he's fine. Yes he heard
his father's going to be on a local TV ad about gay marriage. Yes, that's
great.

Yes his job at the toy store is going well.

No, he did not know Zoe has a new boyfriend and
things are getting serious.

Yes he'll come back to Atlanta if there's a
wedding.

No, he doesn't watch The Voice.

Taylor is doing well. His mother is doing
well.

Arthur is glad about all that. But he's bored.

Finally his father says he has to get back to
work.

Arthur says good-bye.

He's exhausted and not in the mood to talk
anymore.  But he had it in his mind
to call his sister and feels bad canceling that plan.

He calls Zoe.

She sounds tired, which is understandable. She
works at daycare, the one at Joker Jenson's headquarters. Arthur wonders what
it would feel like, being with kids all day. Arthur
has children coming into the store, but usually their parents deal with them.
Even that though can stress him out at times.

Despite
being tired, Zoe tells him about her day.

He tells her about making dinner and how he's
into cooking.

"I need to cook more," she says.
"I'm horrible at it."

They chat on about various things, both not
really into it.

Then Arthur remembers something important.  The man she's dating!  How rude. He should have brought it up
earlier.  "Heard you're quite
serious with some guy?  Someone who
works with dad?" Yuck. Why would she want to date someone who works with
their father? Arthur decides he'd marry a woman before dating a man who works
with his dad.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Dad.
He says it's really serious and I should start packing for the
wedding."

"Ha," Zoe says.  "Dad's
exaggerating a bit. It's not very serious."

"So he hasn't proposed yet?"

Zoe laughs, but it sounds more forced than
amused.

"Do you like him?" Arthur asks.

"Yeah.  I do. For the most part."

"But not as much as dad likes him?"

"Dad really likes him," she says.

"That doesn't mean you have to,"
Arthur says.

"I know."

They have a moment of awkward silence.

Then she says. "It's fine. We're just
having fun together. Nothing serious. I'm not too bothered with it."

"Don't let dad pressure you into
anything."

"I won't."

Arthur would love to bitch about their dad with
his sister, but she's usually not game for that. Plus she seems too tired for
any conversation, period.

He starts the good-bye process and is off the
phone in a couple of minutes.

He goes to check on Bernard, expecting him to
be asleep.

To Arthur's surprise, Bernard is awake.

"Let's get back to what we were doing
before," Bernard says.

Arthur finds he's kind of in the mood
now—At least more so than before.

Chapter
Twelve

ATLANTA-Jennifer and
Philip watch The Voice together.
Sammy Davis Jr. is helping a young woman prepare for the battle round with her
teammate.

Jennifer feels somewhat on edge. Yesterday some
pranksters interrupted the show. They popped on the screen while two
contestants sang Madonna's "Like a Prayer." The singers disappeared
and were replaced by two college-aged men who seemed to be in the woods.

"I hope we're not interrupting anything
important!" one of them said.

The other said, "We just want to say
hello!"

They said hi to a long list of friends.

"We miss you guys!" one said.

"But it's great here!" the other
added.

Then they vanished and The Voice resumed.

"That was a bit ignorant," Philip had
grumbled.

Later it was mentioned on the news. Apparently,
it was the fourth time the spirit world had made contact via television. The first had been a
very local thing.  Something in
Australia.  The spirits appeared on
only one television. Then in China, someone had reached a whole city.

Australia then had a national
broadcast—from a young couple who had died by getting lost in the
wilderness. Then a couple of days ago, some Americans interrupted an episode of
Days of Our Lives.

So
far this episode is free from interruptions. Jennifer doesn't like the feeling
of apprehension though. It's like waiting for a Jack-in-the-box to pop up.

She decides to check on Taylor.

At the next commercial break, she stands up and
starts walking out of the den.

"Where're you going?" Philip asks.

"I'm going to check on Taylor."

"You don't want to watch the show with
me?"

"I'll be back," she says.

He nods.

Taylor's door is closed. Since returning from
school, she's spent a lot of time in her room. Jennifer understands this is
typical for college kids.

She can hear Taylor walking. She does that a
lot. Jennifer’s very impressed with her daughter's dedication. And maybe she's
a tiny bit jealous of her weight loss. Taylor's willpower is incredible.

Taylor opens the door. ""Hi,"
she says. She's wearing gym clothes and a pedometer.  She's' sweating.

"Are you still exercising?"  Jennifer asks.

"Yes."

"How many miles have you done today?"

"Eleven."

"Wow!" Jennifer’s proud of her
daughter, but again…a little jealous. Maybe a little left out in the cold.  They used to both wear the same size.
Eight. Now Taylor can probably fit into a size four...or lower.

"Do you mind if I keep walking?"
Taylor asks. "You can come in and talk to me if you want."

"Okay," Jennifer says. "Though I
told your father I'd be back."

Taylor nods; then she walks across the room.

She paces back and forth.

Jennifer watches her.

Then Philip appears.

Jennifer apologizes to him for not coming back
down promptly.

"It doesn't matter," he says.
"The show's over. Those jerks from yesterday interrupted again."

"I heard about that," Taylor says.
"It makes me scared to watch TV."

"Don't be a fool," Philip says with a
laugh.

Taylor shrugs her shoulders. She keeps walking.

"It's going to be fine," Philip says.
"You can't let losers rule your life with their stupid pranks."

"True," Jennifer says.

Taylor keeps pacing.

"We're very proud of you," Philip
says. "All this weight stuff. It's good to take care of your health."

"Thanks," Taylor says, blushing a
bit.

Jennifer feels a little jealous. Resentful.
It’s nice that Philip’s complimenting Taylor. Yet she wishes….

"Hey, you know," Philip, says.
"You deserve some kind of reward for your hard work."

Taylor stops for a moment, looks at him.  Waits. Then she walks again.

"Why don't you and your mother have a day
out tomorrow? Shopping. Get a new wardrobe. Show off the fact that you look
like a model now.

Taylor smiles.  She looks happy, but also a little
embarrassed. She looks to Jennifer. "What do you think?"

"That sounds great!" Jennifer says,
though she had actually planned on a solo-shopping trip tomorrow. Oh well.
Shopping with her daughter would be fun too. "And we'll have lunch."

Taylor looks suddenly uncomfortable. Nervous.
"I'd rather eat at home. Is that okay?"

Jennifer hesitates only a moment before telling
her it's fine.

"I like when you try to save us
money," Philip says with a laugh.

* * *

That night, Jennifer dreams she's on a picnic
with Philip. They sit side by side, on the grass, in a field full of tulips, eating
chicken noodle soup and chocolate cake. She hums a song and he reaches over and
puts his hand on her knee. Then he slowly moves his hand higher and higher up
her leg.  She stops eating and looks
at Philip. She reaches out to touch him and hears fireworks. Then she's back in
her bed. She hears more fireworks.

People are already celebrating the 4th of July?
It's still weeks away.

She looks over at Philip who's sleeping, and
she has the urge to change that. She reaches under the blanket, finds what she
needs, and waits...hopes for it to get hard.

It
doesn't.

Philip
does moan, but it's not the type of moan she was hoping for. He squirms away
from her and turns around. Well, that happens sometimes. It's nothing personal,
really. He's just busy…with his sleeping. She's knows it's a myth that men are
ready for it at all moments.

Don't take it as a rejection, she tells
herself. She's not going to be desperate and pathetic.

After a short while, she closes her eyes and
manages to fall back to sleep. There's no more picnic. Now she's riding on a
red bus with her son-in-law. He's playing bongo drums.

Then she's awakened again—this time by
sirens. She gets out of bed and looks out the window. Two police cars and an
ambulance pass by their house. They stop a few doors down.

"What's going on?" Philip asks from
the bed.

"Something's happening," she replies.
"To the…." What's their name again? "Two houses down."

"The Schneiders?"

"Yes," she says. At least she thinks
so. Or do the Schneiders live three doors down?

"I suppose I should check it out." Philip gets out of
bed and puts on some pants and a shirt. He rushes out.

Jennifer throws on a bra under her sleep
clothes. She passes Taylor's room. The light’s on. She hears Taylor pacing back
and forth. She knocks on the door; then opens it a crack.

"You haven't gone to sleep?" Jennifer
asks, somewhat bewildered. "It's great to exercise a lot, but not at the
expense of sleeping. She's seen studies. Lack of sleep leads to weight gain.
She wonders if Taylor knows this.

"No, I just woke up." Taylor says.
"The sirens. And…were those gunshots before?"

Oh, so maybe people weren't practicing for the
4th.

"I don't know," Jennifer says.
"Maybe?"

Taylor keeps pacing. "Are you going to
check it out?"

"Your dad's doing that now."

"Can we go with him?"

"Sure." But then Jennifer realizes
this might not be a good idea. "Why don't you stay here? It might not be
safe."

Jennifer expects Taylor to argue, but she
doesn't. "Okay." She continues walking. Pacing. She seems almost
relieved to be able to keep doing that.

"Get some sleep," Jennifer says.

"I will.  I'm just going to finish this
mile."

Jennifer smiles at her daughter; then goes
downstairs.

She walks out of the house and finds Philip and
a neighbor talking to the police. It's...what's her name again?  Mrs. Walker! That's it. She's
sweet.  Elderly. She's crying now.
Philip has his arms around her.
He's comforting her.
Jennifer gets closer and hears her husband answering the police officer's
questions.

"What's going on?" Jennifer asks
them.

Mrs. Walker sniffles loudly. "It's
awful."

"I'll tell you when we're done here,"
Philip says.

Jennifer feels rejected and then ashamed for
feeling that way. This isn't the time and place. Philip likes to help people
and that's beautiful. The least she can do is be supportive.

She
nods and goes inside.

* * *

Jennifer learns what happened when Philip
returns.

Amy and Richard Schneider and their two young
daughters were all shot to death.

"It looks like it was a
murder-suicide."

"Oh my God." Jennifer doesn't know
what to say.

"Damn it." Philip slams his fist on
the counter. Then he takes a deep breath. Jennifer wonders if his hand hurts
now (though he doesn't act like it's bothering him). "He was having
financial problems. They were going to lose the house."

This is all new to Jennifer.

"I told him he could borrow some money. No
strings attached."

"That was very nice of you," Jennifer
says.

"He refused. The stupid jerk. He let pride
get in the way. I suppose he thought it would be better to massacre his
family." Philip shakes his head in disgust.

* * *

Jennifer has trouble going back to sleep. She
sneaks out of their bedroom and goes to her office so she can talk to Trisha on
her laptop. It's comforting to talk to a friend.

She contacts Trisha through FaceTime.

Trisha soon looks back at her. She's wearing a
tiara, which is new. Usually, she has her red hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"I like your tiara," Jennifer says.

"Thank you!  I just learned how to do it."

All their clothes, food and other paraphernalia
are imagined into being. Trisha explained it all to Jennifer once, and Jennifer
struggled to understand. Years ago, Trisha had given up her 1970's clothes for modern
fashion, and she made her brown hair red so it would match Jennifer's.  Her style of dress seems to depend on
her mood. Sometimes she dresses like a fourteen year-old, her age at death.
Other times, she dresses like a woman in her fifties—the age she would
have been if she hadn't been murdered.

Tonight she looks youthful.

"You probably saw what happened."
Jennifer says.

"Well, I know what happened because Philip
was talking about it. But I didn't see it happen. I usually stay in the house
with you guys."

"I can somewhat understand why people
would want to kill themselves."

"I don't," Trisha says. "I wish
everyday that I was still alive."
She gets a dreamy look in her eye.
"It would be perfect. I bet your family would have still moved into
our neighborhood. Just not in our house, I suppose. We would be friends. We
would have sleepovers. Then we'd grow up; go on double dates.  You'd be my maid of honor. We'd babysit
each other's kids."

Jennifer loves hearing Trisha's sweet little
fantasy. Although, she wonders if they would have actually been friends. Trisha
would have been six years older than her.
She has a feeling the age gap might have gotten in the way.

"No, Trisha says. "I can't understand
why anyone would kill themself. It's very wrong. I’ve heard the Other Side is
beautiful. But you go there when God decides it's time for you to leave the
earth. You don't decide to go on your own."

God.
Jennifer has asked about God before. Trisha's always vague and evasive
about the subject. Jennifer's not going to ask again. She will ask something
else though. "When do you think you'll go to the Other Side?"

Trisha looks sad for a moment. "I don't
know.  I should go soon. But I was
thinking maybe I'd wait for you."

"We can still talk if you go, Jennifer
says. "Right?"

Trisha nods. "But I like being able to
watch you. I like being here with you...and Zoe...and Taylor. I'd hate not to
be able to see you whenever I wanted.
I feel like I'm part of your family. Is that stupid?"

"Not at all," Jennifer says, feeling
loved. "It's very sweet."

"Thank you," Trisha said. "I
hope you don't think I'm a pest."

"Not at all," Jennifer says. "I
love having you around."

Her eyes then drift to the clock on the
computer. It's very late.

She and Trisha say their goodbyes; then she
goes back to the master bedroom to get a few hours of sleep.

* * *

Upon waking, Jennifer drinks coffee in an
attempt to save herself from exhaustion. She sees Taylor using her food scale
to measure out some oatmeal. She adds a pinch of chopped almonds, a pinch of
raisins, and a drop of honey. Then she records it all on her food diary app.
Jennifer considers downloading the app. If it's working for Taylor, maybe it
will work for her as well.

Philip turns on the television in the living
room. They can see it from the kitchen. They see their own neighborhood on the
news, then photos of the Schneider family. In one, a young girl clutches a
Sully stuffed animal from Monsters Inc.

The newscaster talks about what happened. According to their
suicide note, not only were they having financial trouble. Little Kelly had
been having trouble at school. She had been distressed over long division.
Annie had recently gotten into trouble for bullying. Though their suicide note
claims it was she who had been bullied first.

The newscaster talks about how suicide rates
had risen in the last year by 15%.

"And it keeps climbing," she
says.  "Just last
week—"

The newscaster vanishes.

She's replaced by darkness. Then slowly the darkness
lightens and the Schneider family appears. They don't look distressed. They
look happy and amused.

Kelly and Annie dance. They turn around and
wiggle their little butts at the camera.

"What the hell?"  Philip says.

Mr. Schneider grins triumphantly. "We're
free!"

Mrs. Schneider shyly waves.

Mr. Schneider puts his arm around his wife. He
starts to sing some 80's TV theme song show. It sounds familiar to Jennifer,
but she can't remember the show.

Mr. Schneider nudges Mrs. Schneider and she
starts singing with him. The daughters giggle and go back to dancing.

Philip turns off the TV. He glares at the
remote.

* * *

Jennifer takes Taylor to Neiman Marcus at
PeachTree Mall. Her credit card's ready for a workout.  Philip had suggested she also buy a few
things for herself.  Maybe she will,
but probably not. Shopping for Taylor will probably take time. Jennifer doubts
there'll be time to shop for herself. That's okay. She'll come back here alone
on another day.

They walk through the parking lot. Taylor
had insisted on Jennifer parking far from the store. "It's good
exercise," she had said.

Taylor opens the door for Jennifer when they
arrived at the entrance. How polite!
Jennifer thanks her.

Jennifer tries to remember the last time she's
gone on a shopping trip with one of her kids.   It was….

Oh. Last February. She had taken Zoe who had
needed dresses for Arthur's weddings.

They didn't go to Neiman Marcus that time. Zoe
shies away from very expensive clothes. "I'll just end up with a
stain." She had reminded Jennifer that she works at the daycare at Joker
Jenson's headquarters. "I usually come home a mess," she had said.

Jennifer reminded her the dresses were for the
wedding, not work.

"Yeah, but I spill things whether I'm with
kids or adults. It doesn't matter."

"I thought it was the kids who were
spilling things."

"Sometimes they do. But not as much as
me."

They had both laughed.

Zoe has a nice self-deprecating sense of humor.
Jennifer likes that. She feels relaxed around her. She likes being with
Taylor too, of course. It's just Taylor is a little
more intense. She's less likely to laugh at herself, and more likely to be
offended by a harmless comment.

"Can I get some bras?" Taylor
interrupts Jennifer's thoughts. "Mine are kind of too big,"

"Of course," Taylor says.

They head to the lingerie department. After
less than five minutes of looking at bras, a sales associate approaches them.
"Do you need help with a fitting?"

Taylor looks at her mother as if seeking
permission.

The sales clerk says, "Did you know 80% of
women are wearing the wrong bra size."

"I think I heard that somewhere,"
Jennifer replies.

"I can help you avoid becoming one of
those statistics." She winks at Jennifer. Taylor looks troubled. No, maybe
she's just confused. Or she's considering whether she wants her breasts
measured. Whatever.  She looks
unsure of things.

Jennifer
decides to give up on trying to read her daughter's mind. "What do you
think?" she finally asks.
"Do you want to be measured?"

"Sure," Taylor says.

As they head to the dressing room, Jennifer
explains the situation to the sales associate. "She's lost a lot of
weight."

"Really?" the sales associate says.
"On purpose?"

"Yes," Taylor says.

"Oh. Good. I just wanted to make sure. I
didn't want to congratulate you and then find out you had cancer."

Yikes. Jennifer hadn't thought of that.

"Although these days, cancer seems much
less like the end of the world. I have a friend with ovarian cancer. She's been
through chemo; lost her hair. There's so much pain.  If I were her, I'd just check out. You
know what I mean?"

"Sure," Jennifer says in an effort to
be polite.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be rambling
like this." She looks at Taylor as they step into the dressing room area.
"So how much weight have you lost?"

"Twenty-five pounds," Taylor
says.

"Fantastic!" the sales associate
says. "Congratulations.  Are
you on Weight Watchers?  Jenny
Craig?"

"No," Taylor says. "I just do my
own thing—count calories, exercise a lot, and weigh my food."

"Well, you look amazing. And I'm so
impressed you're following your own thing. You should write your own diet book.
People make millions doing that."

Taylor gives a little laugh.

The sales associate asks her to take off her
shirt. Jennifer worries this will embarrass Taylor.  She can be shy sometimes about her body.
Well, what woman isn't?

But to her surprise, Taylor seems to totally
lack modesty. She pulls off her shirt; stands there. Her breasts look
small.

The sales associate measures. After a moment
she reports back. "Looks like you're 32A."

"What were you before?" Jennifer
asks.  "34B?"

"C."  Taylor says.  She seems quite pleased with herself. Jennifer's
not sure how she'd feel about her breasts shrinking. Though after some
thinking, she decides she'd be happy to trade in her 34D's for slimmer hips and
thighs.

The sales associate finds some bras.

Taylor tries them on. She picks out three that
she likes.

Jennifer pays for them.

Taylor doesn't say thank you. Jennifer figures
she just forgotten. She tells herself that Taylor looks happy with the
purchase, and maybe this is thanks enough.

They go to look at dresses. Taylor picks out a
dress with a black and white print and orange and blue accents; a blue and
white dress; and a short purple dress that really shows off her legs.

She doesn't look at the price tags. Zoe would
do that. Definitely. The two girls are so different.

Jennifer expects Taylor to like one of the
dresses. She's picky about things.

Nope. She ends up liking all three dresses.

"Can I get three?"

"Sure," Jennifer says. She does hope
to get a thank you though.

She doesn't.

Jennifer starts to relate to Philips anger at
people's lack of gratitude.

Oh well.

Now Taylor wants to look at shirts and pants.

Sure. That's fine. It's just that
Jennifer is hungry. She knows they were going to eat at home, but now she's
feeling a little light-headed. Plus, she really loves the cafe at Neiman's. The
chicken broth.  The popovers.

She asks Taylor if they can eat first.

Taylor looks very uncomfortable. Nervous. Maybe
even scared?

Jennifer pleads with her daughter. "You
can have a salad."

"It's just I like to weigh things."

"Maybe you should carry a scale around in
your purse."  She's joking, but
then thinks...it’s not too bad of an idea. Are pocket sized ones available?

"I guess I can go off my diet,"
Taylor says. "I do that every so often."

"It's not like you're going to go
crazy," Jennifer assures her. "It'll be fine. Just tell them you
don't want the popover."

"Okay," Taylor says.

They go to the cafe. Other mothers and
daughters sit across from each other, eating. They all look so fashionable. And
beautiful. One girl is thinner than Taylor...almost two thin. It looks like she
could have anorexia.  Jennifer
glances at Taylor and sees that Taylor's watching the skinny girl.

"I hope you don't get that thin," Jennifer whispers.

Taylor doesn't seem to hear her. Jennifer
decides not to say it again. She doesn't want to be heard by other people.

Soon, they sit and get their menus. Jennifer
had forgotten the menu items have their calories listed. This practice
impresses Taylor.

"I wish all restaurants did this,"
she says. Jennifer’s less excited about the practice. The Gotham salad sounds
delicious. She loves Gruyere cheese. But seeing that it's 900 calories is
somewhat of a deterrent.

Will Taylor split it with her?

No.
Taylor says the 450 calories are way too much for her. She's going to
order the soup (170 calories).

Jennifer considers being as good as her
daughter; then changes her mind. She goes for the shrimp salad. It's 360
calories.

When it's her turn to order, Taylor asks about
the accuracy of the calorie-count.

"I think it's reasonably accurate,"
the waitress says.  "It might
be a few calories less or more."

"Well, can you ask that they don't give me
too much?"

"Sure thing," the waitress
smiles.  It might be a forced smile.
Taylor is acting a bit intense. That's okay. Jennifer's used to it.

When the waitress leaves, Jennifer watches
Taylor stroke her fork.  It's like
she's petting the thing.

"So…you've gotten three bras and three
dresses. I think we've done pretty good so far."

"Yes," Taylor says. Then she looks a
bit panicked. "Did I thank you yet?"

Jennifer feels relieved. She hasn't raised a
horrible ungrateful daughter after all. "Maybe not." She tries to
sound casual.

"I'm so sorry. You know I'm grateful,
right?  I'm very thankful. Oh my
God, you must think I'm a spoiled brat.
I am a spoiled brat.  Crap.  I'm so sorry mom."

Jennifer
smiles at Taylor. "It's not that big of a deal. But thanks for thanking
me."

Taylor
nods, still looking tense.

A waitress comes by with the popovers and
broth. It's not the same one who took her order.

"No, thank you."  Taylor says.

"Oh, come on, the waitress says.
"It's world famous. And you look like you could use the calories."

Jennifer's tempted to tell this pathetic know-it-all
busybody to mind her own business.

To her shock, Taylor accepts.

"Okay." Taylor says.  "I'll just have a bite or two.
Taste it."

"Good girl," the waitress says.  "You won't be sorry."

Jennifer tries to eat slowly. Savor the
delicacies. She's read that eating slow is a key to weight loss.

But before she knows it...both the broth and
popover are gone. She looks up at Taylor's food and is shocked to see her
popover and broth are gone as well. Where did it go?

"Did you—"

Taylor looks embarrassed.  "Sorry.  I lost a little bit of control."

Jennifer laughs. It's kind of funny. Taylor
worried so much about getting too much soup and then she eats the entire
popover.  How many calories are in that?  "You're a bit naughty," she
says.

"Sorry." Taylor doesn't seem amused.

"You don't have to be sorry." She
wishes her daughter would relax. "It's not a big deal."

"I shouldn't have eaten so much."

"It's not that much," Jennifer says.

Taylor doesn't seem convinced.

"Just do a little extra exercising
tonight."

Taylor gives a little nod.

Jennifer expects her to not eat her soup; make
up for the calories she got elsewhere. But she does eat the soup. Rather
quickly. After it's gone, Taylor continues to scrape off drops from the
bowl.

"Do you want dessert as well?"
Jennifer jokes. She's quite surprised when Taylor takes her up on the
offer.

They get a carrot cake to share.

Taylor eats most of it.

"Slow down, " Jennifer says, joking
again. "You might not fit into your new dresses."  Zoe would have laughed at this. Taylor
doesn't.  She puts down her fork.

"I'm sorry," Jennifer says. "I
was just playing."

"I shouldn't have eaten so much,"
Taylor says. She looks so damn ashamed. It's starting to get on Jennifer's
nerves.

But she tries to be motherly. "We all do
that sometimes," Jennifer says. "Don't worry about it so much."

Taylor nods.

They don't talk much as they wait for the bill.
Jennifer pays it. Taylor remembers to say thank you this time.

They leave the cafe. "Are you ready for
more shopping?"

"Sure," Taylor says.

They start heading back to the women's
department.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind if we skip the rest of the
shopping.  I'm feeling kind of
gross."

"Of course," Jennifer says. She's
really not in the mood, anyway.

* * *

As soon as they get home, Taylor changes into
her running clothes.

She leaves the house and come back an hour
later drenched in sweat.

She doesn't join Philip and Jennifer for
dinner.

As they eat, Jennifer can hear Taylor pacing
upstairs.

"She's very dedicated to that
exercise," Philip says.
"But I'm not in support of her missing family dinners. It's
rude." It's just one dinner, but as Jennifer thinks more about it, she
realizes Philip is right.
"We do a lot for that girl," he continues.
"How much money did you spend on her today?" Philip doesn't wait for
an answer. "The point is she can show a little respect."

Yes, Jennifer decides. He's right.

Chapter
Thirteen

SAN FRANCISCO-For dinner,
Dennis eats a fruit and nut bar that he brought home from his shop, along with
some St. John's Wort tea. It's supposed to help with
depression.

Yes. He's depressed.

He misses his wife. He misses the
television and all their shows.

He misses the online atheist forums where he
used to spend much of his free time.

He misses the old world—the ones where
atheists were slowly being more accepted and respected.

Now they've taken a thousand steps backwards.

He remembers the last time he had visited the
forums. It was a few months after Nancy had died. There hadn't been enough
so-called proof yet and most of the atheists hadn’t lost their common sense.

One of his favorite posters though had gotten a
message. He was starting to question things.  Dennis respects that. Being a skeptic
isn't about saying absolutely no to the possibility of the supernatural. It's
about looking at things with an open mind.

The thing is though...there were people
visiting the forum. Invaders. Trolls. Criticizing. Attacking. There were just a
few, but Dennis had a feeling there'd soon be more.

He
doesn’t want to see the intolerance return. And he has this fear that one day
he'll return and all the atheists will be gone. Transformed.

He doesn’t want to be the only one left.

Chapter
Fourteen

HAWAII-Kayla stays
with Christina at work, because summer vacation has begun. Christina prefers
having her daughter with her rather than finding a nanny. She had asked Kayla
if she wanted to do a camp or class and Kayla declined. She'll perhaps offer
again later, though she's not sure anything will still be available.

Kayla's good at keeping busy. She sits behind
the counter with Christina and reads. She uses the iPad.
Often, she talks to her dad, but sometimes she plays games or writes stories.

She also draws.

Today she draws on actual paper with crayons.
She's making pictures for her Grandpa Dennis. They received a package from him
yesterday. He had written a letter to Christina. For Kayla, he enclosed clips
of comics from a newspaper.

Kayla had glanced at his clippings quickly;
then put it down. She wasn't very interested. Christina feels bad, because she
knows her father is trying to reach out and connect to Kayla.  He's trying to see if it's possible to
have a long distance relationship without the Internet.

Is it?

People managed it in the past. To a point.

Christina wonders what's going to happen to
their relationship. They live too far away from each other to visit on a
regular basis. Both of them have to take care of their shops and can't be away
that much. Besides that, plane tickets are ridiculously expensive.

Can they keep up a real relationship with snail
mail?  Christina has her
doubts, especially since her father's letter is not very forthcoming with
information. It's a bit dry.

She struggles to read his handwriting.

Basically what she knows now is he got rid of
his TV; his store has had a slight increase in customers; he's reading a book
about blue whales; and he's installed a birdhouse in a tree by his kitchen
window.

His letter asks nothing about her life. He refers to her life only in the part
where he says, I hope you and Kayla are doing well.

She understands that his lack of questions is
due to his ineptness in conversation. She doesn't think he doesn't care. So she
writes about her life. Though it's hard because she knows he doesn't want her
to mention one of the most prominent subjects of her life.

She struggles to write about things that don't
involve Kayla seeing dead people and the fact that they're  continuing to have a relationship with
Kayla's father, aunt, and grandma.

Her father has a strong aversion to the whole
subject of life after death.

For now, Kayla draws pictures. Christina writes
about mundane things in their life that are really not too important. I worry Kayla is eating too much cheese
and is going to have high cholesterol.
I wish she liked more vegetables. That's the most exciting thing in
her letter so far.

She asks him some questions about stuff he
mentioned in his letters. Such as—What
kind of birds are you seeing?  What
type of feed do you use? What do you plan to read after the whale book?

Animals! Christina remembers that they saw one
of those large Hawaiian centipedes the other day. Her father is always
interested in wildlife. She decides to write about that.

As soon as she's finished telling that story
(in three sentences) a customer comes into the store. She buys some lavender
flavored organic chocolate. After she leaves, Christina writes about the sale
in the letter.  It's not very
exciting.  No.  But it takes up space.  That's what she's going for right now.

"I'm done," Kayla says. Christina
looks down at daughter. She has three pictures ready for her Grandpa.

"Good job," Christina says.

"Can I walk around the store?"

"Sure," Christina says.

"I won't touch anything or break
anything."

"I know you won't."

Christina sticks the letter and pictures in the
envelope. She addresses it, and then has an idea.  She should take some pictures of Kayla
and herself and send them to her dad. When was the last time he's seen a photo
of them?

When's the last time she's
gotten a photo developed?  Christina
can't remember. She's not even sure where to get that done. Can she order them
from Flickr? Do drugstores still do that?

Maybe not.

Oh well.
She'll figure it out.

Kayla skips back over to the counter.

"There are three ghosts in the
store," she says.

"Three? Wow." Christina thinks that
it's too bad they can't buy anything. In terms of the living, the store has
been empty most of the day.

"One was nice," Kayla says. "She
taught me a dance."

"What about the other two?" Christina
has a slight twinge of worry.

"They were scary!" Kayla says with
dramatic flare. "Blood was dripping from their teeth and they wanted to
eat me!" She giggles.

"You're a funny, girl."  Christina says.

Kayla keeps laughing.

"But they were okay?"

"Yes. Just busy."

"Okay."

"So...do you want to see my dance, or
not?"  Kayla asks.

"Of course."

Kayla dances. Christina takes some photos of
her doing that.

"I love that dance."

Daddy does too,” Kayla says.

Chapter
Fifteen

SYDNEY-Loretta helps her
husband at the restaurant when she's not teaching her dance class. Things are very busy.
The restaurant stays packed from opening until closing. The line usually
stretches outside the door. On top of that, tourists stand around taking
photos.

The second restaurant is doing better as
well…just by association.

At this (the primary) location, they're selling
t-shirts. They designed and bought them from a website.

Loretta came up with the idea for one of the
designs. She based it off that old movie, Poltergeist.
The shirts have a few restaurant tables, displaying the menu with the logo.
Then there's a TV off to the edge and a young customer near the TV. He has a
speech balloon coming out of his head. They're
here!

Another shirt has the restaurant logo and a TV.
Then below that it says, It all began here!

It didn't all begin here. Really. But the TV
part did.

They're famous. They're part of history.
Loretta can't help but love that.

She wonders what her brother-in-law thinks
about it. He's always prided himself on being the successful one in the family.
The star. Well, now he has company.

Loretta grins. Then she looks at the clock on the
wall. It's 12:00. The twins will be appearing soon.  Zachary and Hayden do a show everyday
from 12:30-1:30, then again at 5:00-7:00. Those are sure things. Then to insure
the restaurant is always busy, they pop up at surprise times.

The show’s a hit, and Loretta has to admit it's
not only because the stars happen to be dead.  It turns out Zachary and Hayden have talent, mostly with comedy. They also do a bit of
singing and dancing.  Every so
often, they'll get a bit serious—give an inspirational lecture of
sorts.

What the audience really loves is the
interactive parts. The twins can see the audience and they make comments. They
ask questions. They play around with the children.  The show is definitely family-friendly.
Though if the twins make appearances in the later hours and no kids are around,
the content gets a little more risqué.

William now closes the restaurant at midnight.
They used to close at ten.
He's rarely at home, so neither is Loretta or Mia. Mia does
her homework at the restaurant in the small office in the back. She changes
into her pajamas around 9:00 and sleeps on a blow-up bed. Then when the
restaurant closes, they go back and put her into her own bed.

* * *

By 11:59, the restaurant is packed. Every
single table is full. People stand outside, some peering through the windows.
There’s room for them now, because William had the outdoor seating removed.
Everyone wants to sit inside because that’s where the TV is located, so there’s
no point in having an outdoor option.

The restaurant’s fully staffed. They've had to
hire a lot of new people to keep up with things.

The TV flickers and the twins appear.

Today they're wearing the uniform of the
Parramatta Eels. They pretend to play…some sport? What do the Eels play? What
is that? Loretta's a bit lost when it comes to sports. She's not into it. If
she remembers though, she'll ask William later.

Hayden and Zachary stop playing. They greet the
audience.

They single out a woman wearing Mickey Mouse
Ears. Pointing to her, Zachary squeals, "We're in Disneyland!"

Hayden does a sad face. "I always wanted to
go to Disney World. Now it's too late."

"Poor Hayden," Zachary says.
"But to make up for it, guess who we have as our guest this
afternoon!   Drum roll
please."

The restaurant patrons bang on their tables.

Zachary and Hayden shout out. "Walt
Disney!"

Mr. Disney won't be there later. It's just a
running gag. Zachary and Hayden frequently promise hugely famous dead
celebrities. The most frequent promise is Ned Kelly.

Loretta suddenly gets an idea.  They can make a t-shirt referring to the
celebrity thing. Those would sell well.

Zachary and Hayden sing a parody of the newest
Katy Perry song.

When
they're done, Zachary says. "See that beautiful woman in the
corner—the one with the blue flower dress." Loretta blushes because
they're talking about her. "She's a very talented herbalist. If you look
at the menus, you'll notice we now offer herbal tears. Loretta will make one
for you." Some
people in the restaurant glance at her.
She gives them a little wave. She feels honored, but also embarrassed. "If you look at
the insert in your menus, you'll see we have some new items. Spicy lamb curry.
And for dessert...chocolate Pavlolva.  I'd tell you they're delicious, but I'd
be lying."

Hayden pipes in. "We can't try the food
from here."

Zachary says, "That's one of the reasons
we say don't do we what we did. Suicide is wrong.  Do you hear me, Kids? The food here
sucks!"

Hayden. "Well, it's not that bad. Really.
And there are good things about being here."

Zachary gives him a dirty look. Hayden looks
guilty and clamps his hand over his mouth as if to shut himself up. Loretta
can't tell if it's all part of the act, or if Hayden has truly been scolded by
his brother.

There’s been a slight rise in suicides
lately—not just in Parramatta though; all over
the country. All over the world.

Most people though are choosing to live. They
go about their normal lives.

Loretta figures, what's the rush? We're all
going to join Hayden and Zachary's world eventually.

* * *

Zachary and Hayden are quite popular, though
not everyone's a fan. A few of the haters have shown up at the restaurant. Only
one has come inside; they had to call the police. Others just hang around
outside with signs.

IT'S NOT NATURAL.

BLAME ZACHARY AND HAYDEN FOR THE SUICIDES.

STAY OFF OUR TV'S!

William went over to some of them once to clear
up some misconceptions. Hayden and Zachary are not connected to the other dead
who are actually interrupting national and international broadcasts. Yes, they
started the TV thing but they are not to blame for those who took it much
further.

People also complain on Facebook and Twitter. Loretta tries to
avoid reading those because they can be very hurtful.

In the past, cruel people would send out death
threats to those that offended them with differences of opinion. Now death
isn't really that big of a threat, so people give details about their torture
plans. The details can be absolutely disgusting at times.

Yeah.
There's no point reading it.

Loretta prefers to concentrate on the positive.
And there's a lot of that lately.

Chapter
Sixteen

ATLANTA-Zoe has
dinner with Mickey and her family at a new trendy restaurant downtown that
serves Mexican-Korean fusion food.

Mickey and her father joke around with the waiter.
Or half-joke.  They try to convince
him that his restaurant will do even better if they start carrying Joker
Jenson's products.

Mickey is quite charming, just like Zoe's
father. The waiter seems to enjoy the attention. The three men are laughing
together.

Zoe, her mother, and Taylor sit quietly
watching.

Taylor's very skinny now. She keeps losing
weight. Does
she still eat?

Well, obviously yes. She's still alive. And she's definitely
not a skeleton. She doesn't look like a public service warning for eating
disorders. She looks like the people you see on TV or magazine covers. It's
impressive. Zoe's
pretty sure she herself could stand to lose a pound or two. But not tonight.
She'll start watching herself tomorrow. Or the day after. Maybe next month.

The waiter leaves.

Mickey and her father talk among
themselves—work stuff and then they move on to movies.

"So…" Zoe says to the females at the
table. "What's up with you two?"

"Not much," Taylor says. "What's
up with you?"

"Not much."

Ah…great conversation here.

Then her mother saves the day by bringing up
the TV issue. They talk about their neighbors who killed themselves and then
appeared on TV. Then there have been various interruptions in the past couple
of weeks. Modern Family, The Voice, The Big Bang Theory.

I don't watch TV alone anymore," her
mother says.

Zoe realizes she hasn't watched TV much lately
either. She hadn't noticed. Is it because she’s busy? Is she scared of
interrupting ghosts, but doesn’t realize it? Truth be told though, she hasn't
gotten really into a show since Lost
ended.

The women continue to talk among themselves
while the two guys talk. Well, really their mother does most of the talking.
For the most part, Zoe and Taylor just listen and respond.

The food comes.

Zoe loves her kimchi tacos. She notices that
all Taylor ordered was a small plate of kimchi. That's a bit off (not the
kimchi, but her sister's eating habits).

Maybe she should worry?

Suddenly, Zoe feels stressed. Scared.

Mickey looks at Taylor's plate. "That's
all you ordered? Do you not eat?"

"I eat," Taylor says.

"She's very disciplined," their
father says.

"Maybe too disciplined?" Zoe says.
"You should eat more."

"I'm fine," Taylor says, not really in
a defensive way. She sounds almost apologetic, like she doesn’t want to worry
Zoe.

"I say we drop it," her father says.
"If Taylor’s happy with her diet, it's not up to us to interfere."

What the hell?  Zoe can't believe what she's hearing.
This coming from a man who's constantly giving her what he calls "fatherly
guidance".

"Besides," her father continues.
"Thin is very in."

Mickey nods. "True. Very true."

No one says anything for awhile. They all go
back to eating.

Every so often, Zoe sneaks a glance at Taylor.

Her sister eats very slowly, cutting up each
piece of cabbage into tiny pieces. Then she slowly puts them into her mouth,
and chews way too many times.

* * *

After dinner, Mickey drives Zoe back to her
apartment.

She invites him in, not because she wants to be
with him, but because she feels this is expected of her.

He declines. It turns out he's supposed to meet
with her father. Business?  No,
they're going to play some pool together.

Zoe feels tempted to ask. Are you dating me or
my dad?  She refrains from doing so.

She says good-bye.  He kisses her on the forehead. She
leaves the car and goes into her building. She puts her purse on the bookshelf
next to a Just William book. The purse is small enough to fit on the shelf; it
doesn't fall. Zoe takes a seat on the couch and stares across at the TV.

Should she turn it on?

Maybe.

Why be scared of the ghosts?  Most of them are perfectly harmless.

She'll watch TV. It's very unlikely her show
will be interrupted anyway. Despite what her mother says, the interruptions
aren't commonplace.

She turns on the TV.  She flips through some channels. Nothing
looks interesting.

She looks at her DVR. She hasn't recorded
anything lately, but there might be something old that's good.

There's her brother-in-law's TV show. She could
watch that. The thing is—she feels a bit like she's betraying her brother
when she does that. She assumes, even though Arthur supports Bernard's career,
he must be quite envious.

Well…she'll feel better watching Bernard's show
when Arthur is successful as well.

Will he ever be successful?

Zoe hopes so.

In the meantime….

She finds an old episode of Friends.  It's a Thanksgiving one. It's quite strange to
be watching it in the middle of June.

Zoe gives the show half her attention. Most of
her mind dwells on Taylor. She's worried about her. Yet she also worries that
she's overreacting.  Maybe her dad's
right. Maybe it's just a case of Taylor being very disciplined. Maybe she's
envious of that discipline?  So
instead of supporting her sister, she's turning it into a problem.

As Rachel, Monica and the others sit down to
eat, Zoe decides she'll take a wait and see approach.

* * *

For some reason, Zoe sends Mickey a text before
going to sleep. G'night!
Hope you're having fun.

She waits for a response. After a few minutes,
she gives up, puts the phone on the table, and turns off the light.

Why is she bothered by the fact that he's not
texting her back? Why does she care? Does she even like him?

Zoe doesn't think so, but does some serious
second-guessing. If
she doesn't like him, why would she care if he texted or not? Why would she be
bothered by the fact that he went out with her dad instead of spending the
evening with her.

And why is she still with him in the
first place?

Arthur was right the other day when he said she
doesn’t have to like Mickey just because their dad does.

The fact is their dad has a way of getting you
to do what he wants.

He never uses brute force. He never threatens.

He just—

What the hell does he do?

It's almost like he casts a spell. The spell
makes you second guess your own choices and it makes you feel, that if you
don't do what their dad suggests, you'll fail miserably and be very
regretful.

Yes! That’s it exactly.

Zoe does some major self-psychoanalysis and
realizes she’s scared that if she doesn’t follow her father's dream of her
marrying Mickey and making Mickey-Zoe babies, she'll end up a lonely pathetic
spinster.

It's like her father has managed to convince
her that Mickey is her only chance.

With that thought,(but no plans on how to make
things better for herself) Zoe falls asleep.

* * *

Zoe dreams.

She dreams she's in her parent's house.

Taylor has gained all her weight back and she
keeps eating a birthday cake with her hands.

Their father yells at her, disgusted.

Their mother chases a turkey around the
kitchen.

Arthur and Bernard talk to Mickey. Arthur
laughs with Mickey.  Zoe doesn't like
that her brother is getting along with Mickey. She tells him this. Then Mickey
and Arthur both yell at her.

Bernard starts dancing.

Zoe watches.

Then she hears a knock on the door.

"Is anyone going to get that?" she
says.

"Can't you see I'm busy?" her mother
says.

"I do enough around here," her father
says. "It's time you put yourself to good use."

So Zoe walks down the hall. It's much longer
than it is in real life.

She comes to the door and opens it.

She gasps.

It's her boyfriend.

He's back.

* * *

Zoe wakes up late Saturday morning feeling
absolutely jubilant.

She sings a made up song in the shower and also
dances in there—well, as much as it's possible to dance in the
shower.

She also dances and sings as she makes herself
breakfast. She's
feeling like Mary Poppins. Or maybe Maria von Trapp. One of those Julie Andrews
characters.

After getting clean and eating, she checks her
messages on her phone. Mickey has apologized for not getting back to her last
night. Zoe doesn't care; nor does she respond to the message.

There's a text from her father. He's buying the
new iPad. Does Zoe want his old one?

She does. Maybe. She'll write to him later.

She then realizes some of her earlier happiness
has faded.

It doesn't take her long to figure out why.

There's no message from him. The boyfriend. It seems she might
have been hoping he was real; that he'd text her or
send an email. Had fun last night. I'm glad we can talk in real life now. Real life.  Well, that term might be a bit
inappropriate for the circumstance.

Zoe then realizes she hasn't checked her email
yet.

Usually she does that before her shower, but
today she forgot.

Maybe? Could there be?

There's not.

Zoe's bubble of glee bursts into a cold
melancholy.

It could all be in her head.

She pushes that thought out of her head and
thinks back to the dream.
She doesn't remember everything. Some of it's unclear.

A lot of it frustrates her.

There are things that should have happened, but
her dream self didn't come through for her. For example, she never asked him
where the hell he’s been all these years. She never asked him why he had
returned.

They just gave each other huge hugs. They
kissed.

She said.  "Please take me away from
them."

"Who?"

"My family."

He had smiled.

Then the next thing she knew they were in a
forest.

They found a cottage and he made her some toast
with raspberry jam.

Other stuff happened. Maybe? She can't
remember.

Then they had sex.

It was so much better than the sex she has with
Mickey.

She really needs to break up with Mickey.

* * *

Zoe spends the rest of the day and evening going back and forth like a child pulling petals
from a daisy.

He's real. He's a ghost, and we'll soon be
FaceTiming each other.

He's not real. He's just a figment of my
imagination. I'm mildly insane.

Or very insane.

Both theories leave her with doubts.

The thing is—if he was a ghost, why did he
come into her dreams instead of using the Internet? From what she has heard
from a woman at work, it takes a lot of energy to appear in someone's
dreams.

Maybe the woman’s wrong?

As for it being a figment of her imagination,
why did her imagination fail her for all those years? Why did it deprive her of
such a pleasure? And now why has it returned?

Is it something she ate?  Maybe kimchi? But Zoe has eaten kimchi
other times in the last five years and…no dreams.

Did something happen to trigger it? Maybe
worrying about Taylor? That idea works if you’re going for an
I-refuse-to-believe-in-anything-magical mentality. Besides that, it makes
little sense.

Chapter
Seventeen

LONDON-Arthur walks
through Kensington Gardens with Bernard. It's Saturday, Bernard's usual day
off. And this weekend, Arthur has the day off as well.

Bernard has brought a kite. Arthur has packed a
picnic for them. He's getting good at the whole cooking thing.

In the basket: Salad wraps (vegan for Bernard;
Arthur’s has chicken), fresh strawberries, and homemade vegan chocolate chip
cookies—or biscuits, as Bernard would call them.

They get to the park and find a big tree that's
not already occupied; then they sit down under it.

It's nice.

Neither of them brought their phones with them,
so they can't be bothered.
Unless someone recognizes Bernard and begs him for an
autograph.

That doesn't happen.

All is relatively peaceful.

Except Bernard swallows his water the wrong way
and chokes a bit.

He survives the ordeal.

They laugh about it; make some jokes about him
becoming an EB or OS.

They eat.

They talk.

They hold hands.

They watch some birds.

They fly the kite.

They watch some parents and some kids.

Bernard asks Arthur if he'd like children someday.
It's not the first time they've talked about it, but they don't talk about it
often.

"Maybe someday," Arthur says."
Definitely not anytime soon." Is that okay? What if Bernard wants kids
soon? Well, he should just ask. Right?
So he does. "How about you?"

"Same," Bernard says. "I'm not
ready yet."

Arthur sighs with relief.

It's a loud sigh.

Bernard laughs and squeezes Arthur's hand.

* * *

When they return to the apartment and their
phones, Arthur finds a text from Zoe. She wants him to call.

He calls.

Yes, she's still dating Mickey, but she might
break up with him.

"Good!"

"You don't even know him," she says.

"If Dad likes him, I know he's someone I
wouldn't like."

Zoe laughs. "He likes Bernard."

"Well, that's why I'm divorcing him."

"You're not funny."

"I am. And as for your point. He likes
Bernard. He doesn't adore him. I think he's still mad that he's taken me away
to London."

"Maybe,"
Zoe says.

"You know how many times Dad has
sent me a photo of you and Mickey?"

"He does that?"

"Didn't you notice him taking the
photo?"

Zoe's quiet for a moment. "Well, I guess.
I didn't know he was sending them out."

"Well, he is."

"Mickey's not bad." He can tell she's
getting defensive. "I mean he's not perfect. But just because Dad likes him
doesn't mean he's wrong for me."

"Zoe, if you like him...that's fine."

"I feel like Dad pressures me to be with
him and you pressure me to break up with him."

Bernard comes out of the bathroom and they do
some nonverbal communicating with gestures, eye movements, lip reading, etc.

Who is that?

My sister.

Which one?

Zoe.

Is she okay?

Arthur shrugs his shoulders.

Bernard asks (again with nonverbal methods) if
Arthur minds the TV on.

No, it's fine.

Arthur gets back to Zoe who hasn't been filling
the silence with her own chatter. She's been quiet too. He wonders if she's
just sitting there. Or is she doing something while talking on the phone.

"So, what else is going on?" he
asks.

"Not much."

Arthur gets this feeling there's something
more, that she wants to tell him something. Maybe it's a psychic-sibling
connection thing? Or does that happen only with twins?

He tries to keep the conversation going."
Have you heard from Grandma lately?"

"No.
Have you."

"Nope."

"Any other ghosts?"

"No," she says. Again, he gets the
sense that she has something to say that she's not saying. "What about
you?"

"No. Bernard almost choked at the park
today. Then I would be married to one."

She chuckles a bit. Kind of fake.

They're quiet again.

Then she speaks.  "Have you talked to Taylor?"

"Not recently," he says. Now that he
thinks of it, it's been quite long time. Maybe over a month. "I'm a bad
brother."

"She's eating…weird."

"Weird?"

"I mean not eating enough. And she's very
thin."

"Like anorexia?"

"Maybe."

"She could be doing it to get
attention," he says, trying not to worry. "How many times did she
threaten to kill herself in high school?"

"That was you, Arthur."

Oh. Oops. Yeah, he had done that a few times.
Didn't Taylor do it as well?

"I'm worried about her," Zoe
says, almost whining.

"What about mom and dad?"

"They don't seem bothered by it."

"Well, they're with her more. If something
was wrong, they'd know. They'll get her help if she needs it."

" I guess you're right."  Zoe doesn't seem very convinced.

They talk a bit more, and then say good-bye.

For a few minutes after the phone call, Arthur
worries a bit about Taylor. Then he's distracted by a Kylie Minogue video that
Bernard's watching. For the time being, he forgets about his sisters.

Chapter
Eighteen

GAINESVILLE-Jessica
cries while talking to her parents on FaceTime. She's just so homesick. She
really wants to come home. She's actually so desperate that she's played the
lottery several times in hopes she'll win enough to buy a plane ticket.

She feels bad about crying because it makes her
mum cry. She ends up feeling so lost and helpless.

"Maybe we can afford it," her mum
says through tears.

"I don't know," her dad says.
"We really don't have the money for it. She can visit now, but then we'd
probably have to cancel the future visit."

Jessica feels tempted to follow that plan, but
knows it would hurt her in the long run. She just has to stick this out. "I'll be
okay." She wipes her eyes. "I'll wait."

Her mum starts to cry even more—almost
sobbing. She excuses herself and walks away from the screen.

Her dad stays behind, and they both try to
continue the conversation. But it's strained.

They
soon say good-bye.

* * *

Jessica has a hard time concentrating in class the
next morning.

She feels abandoned, but tries to tell herself
it's all in her head.

Her parents love her. Of course they would buy
her a plane ticket if they could afford it.

Yes, things have felt awkward between her and
Frankie, the past couple of weeks, since she asked him to dinner and he said
no. But how would she feel about someone who asked her out and she wasn't
interested?        Well, actually she wouldn't be as
distant as him.

Or...is he distant?  She's not completely sure. He talks to
her less but she has to admit she talks to him less as well. It's as if both of
them have stopped making the effort.

Jesse is still around, but has given her the
news that he's going to soon cross over to the Other Side.  He doesn't want to be an EB anymore.
Fine. Jessica understands. It's an advancing step in his spiritual development.
But she still feels he's abandoning her. They can still talk. That won't
change. But he won't be in the room with her. It'll be different.

Actually, that's a bit creepy, now that she
thinks of it. So...what? She likes to be watched? And who knows if he's telling
the truth about when he's there and not there.

She trusts he's not a pervert. But still. When
you're alone…even if you're lonely…you want to know you're not unknowingly not
alone.

So maybe Jesse running off to OtherSideLand is
a good thing.

Then there are her friends. When they left
Gainesville for the summer, they made all these promises to keep in touch.
We'll call. We'll email. We'll text. We'll visit. We'll take you to Atlanta and
visit the World of Coke.

Jessica hasn't heard from any of them since
May. Now it's mid-June. Oh wait…Mindy sent an email asking Jessica to sponsor
her in a Leukemia walk-a-thon.

Jessica appreciates Mindy for wanting to help
sick children, but she wishes she could be more of a friend.

She sent Mindy a donation, and then sent
another separate personal email. She congratulated Mindy on the walk, asked
about her family, and asked about her beloved pet turtle. She told her about
being homesick, the disaster with Frankie, something funny Jesse had said, and
a funny magazine cover she had seen.

Mindy hasn't written back yet.  It's been almost two weeks. Jessica has
her doubts she'll hear from her.

* * *

Jessica should be studying, but instead she
watches TV.

She flips through channels and then lands on a
talk show. She doesn't recognize the host. She's not a big fan of these types
of shows, so isn't very knowledgeable about who is who.

This particular episode though has an Aussie
actor being interviewed. Eric Bana.

She thinks watching it will make her feel less
homesick.

It's not working so far. It's making her feel
worse.

She's about to turn the channel when Eric Bana
and the host disappear.

They're replaced with a room full of
women—older women, standing in a horizontal line. They look like
grandmothers, the type who don't like children and lose their temper if you
drop cake crumbs on their carpet.

They stand straight and stare back at Jessica.

This is the first time she's seen one of these
ghostly broadcast things.

She wonders. Is she the only one seeing this?
No, probably not.

Is it a national broadcast?  International? Maybe it's just for
Gainesville.

One of the old women steps forward.

"Good morning, afternoon, or
evening," she says in an American accent. "We are sorry to interrupt
your programming, and we will let you get back to that as soon as
possible."

She looks so serious and her friends do as
well. Not one of them has even a hint of a smile. It's a bit unnerving.

It's as if a bunch of dead headmasters have
gotten together to scold everyone on the planet.

"We will be speaking now and
rebroadcasting three additional times in the next twenty-four hours. We want to
reach as many people as possible. We apologize in advance for causing you to
miss your traditionally scheduled programming."

Another woman steps forward. "Our basic
message we need to get forth is that this is all very wrong.  We understand that, in the past, separation
through death has caused enormous heartbreak. But this is all part of the soul
experience. To lose that is to lose what we are. As you have certainly heard
from the news, there has been a dramatic increase in suicides. There has been
an increase in risky behaviors and a drop in charitable donations."

A third woman steps forward. "There have
been cases of families neglecting their children because they are too busy
talking to people from our side. Children and teens are neglecting their
homework because they do not see the point of it anymore. Some are even
dropping out of school.

The first speaker woman comes forward. "It
is not only affecting your side. It is affecting us as well.  Separation from the living is a very
important step of soul development. We need to let go completely before we can
take the steps needed for our return."

Return? Jessica wonders what that means.
Reincarnation? Or something else?

"We are working here to develop a way to
block this connection—these communications.  Unfortunately, we do not know if that is
possible. In the meantime, we plead with you to make a pledge to stop the
communications from your end.  Do
not answer emails from our side.  Do
not accept video calls.  Do not send
texts."

She steps back.  Another woman steps forward. "Life
is short. You will be with us soon enough. Use this time to make your life as
much as you can. Talk to those who are your companions in life. Love them.  Give them your attention. Don't dwell in
a world in which you do not yet belong."

The women then start to speak in unison.
"We apologize for the interruption. We wish you love, health, and safety.
Please heed our warnings."

Eric Bana returns to the screen.

Jessica turns off the TV.

She takes about half a minute to think about what
she's just heard.

Then out of protest, she FaceTimes Jesse.

He hasn't heard about the women or the
broadcast.

"What a bunch of losers," he says
after she tells him about it. "Who do they think they are?"

Jessica rolls her eyes, then she vents to him
about her homesickness.

Chapter
Nineteen

MANHATTAN-Eugene
watches a debate on CNN about yesterday's broadcast. They have a woman from
Texas who has been happily reunited with her husband; her
children with their father. With emotion, she expresses her fear that their
happiness will be taken away.

A man from Boston talks about how his teenage
daughter spends all her time talking to a fellow student who died from a drug
overdose. "She doesn't do her homework anymore. She refuses to do her
chores. I can't count the times she's threatened to kill herself so she can
join this boy."

A psychologist agrees with the old OS women.
"Although we understand there may be benefits to communicating with the
spirit world, we have grave concerns about how it may affect society long-term.
We also fear it may cause irreversible damage to impressionable young minds.

A futurist is much more positive about the
situation. He compares the situation of today with people in the past who first
had to adjust to the online world. "And how do you think people felt with
other monumental changes throughout history? The invention of cars,
airplanes...television."

"Chocolate covered bacon," another
panelist jokes with his Australian accent. He and his twin brother are the only
representatives from the spirit world.

"I'm going to assume you support the
communications," the host of the program says to the twins.

Eugene doesn't hear their answer because it's
at this point that Anna throws her book, paper, and pen across the room and
yells. "I can't fucking take this anymore." She stands up and
screams.

Eugene looks up at her. "Are you
okay?"

"No. I'm not fucking okay!" She
bursts into tears.

For one brief moment, he feels sad for her.
Then he remembers he despises her.

He goes back to watching the debate. Well, no.
Now there's a commercial break. He's probably missed something important.
Thanks, Anna. "I
hope it works out for you," he says, without taking his eyes away from the
screen.

"If you want to know—I'm working on
the seating chart."

"No, I didn't want to know."  He knows he's being nasty. He doesn't
really want to be that way, but he can't help himself.

Anna cries.

He tries to ignore her.

She stops crying long enough to say. "I
hate you."

"Feeling’s mutual."

"I've never hated anyone more in my
life."

"Thanks."

She sniffles, stands up, walks across the room,
and picks up her pen and paper.

She starts writing again. Or whatever the hell she's
doing.

The debate comes back on. He tries to
concentrate on it, but he can't.
Now he's feeling—Well, he's feeling something unpleasant.

Guilt maybe.  Pity? A little bit.

"Do you want me to help you?" he
asks, waiting to get his head bit off.

She does just that. "No, I want you to
just sit there and watch me do all the work."

"No need for sarcasm," he says.  "Just tell me if you want my help
or not."

"Fine," she says. "I need your
help."

"Okay." He's surprised at the sound
of his voice. There's no spite. It's civil…almost gentle.

* * *

They work on the seating chart together. Early
on in the work, Eugene begins to understand Anna's frustration. It’s like a
massive math-logic problem. Each time they think they have things right, they realize so and so don't like each other. Or so
and so will be upset that all her friends are at that table and she's not.

When they finally figure it out and check and
recheck, they sigh simultaneously with relief. Their eyes meet for a brief
moment. Then they both look away.

Eugene wonders if such wedding work is more
pleasant when you're in love with the person you're marrying.

Probably.

Anna then says. "Hey, I know you didn't
want to help with that, but—

"No worries," he says. "It's my
wedding too." He decides to be nice and not remind her that this whole
thing is her idea, not his.

"I feel I owe you.  So...if you want to have sex, that's
fine. We can do that tonight."

What the fuck?  What kind of demented offer is that?
It's sick and insulting. It makes him feel cheap.

He wants to say no and bitch her out for even
asking.

But suddenly he's very horny and doesn't have
the willpower to say no.

"Okay."

* * *

The really sick thing is it's the best sex
they've ever had.

He wonders if Anna feels the same way, but
doesn't ask her. He doesn't want to hear her answer. He's sure it will be
bitchy and wounding.

After he goes to the bathroom to wash up, he
gets a text from Sebastian. I wish I
hadn't had to watch that, he says.

Eugene types back. Who told you to watch? Don't blame me for your sick decisions. He's
about to press send, but then he deletes the message. Instead he writes, I wish you were still alive so I could
strangle you.

He presses send and smiles.

Chapter
Twenty

OAHU-Christina wakes
up to whimpering. She opens her eyes and sees Kayla standing by her bed.

"What's wrong, Sweetie?"

"Can I sleep with you?"

"Of course." Christina pats the other
side of the bed.  Kayla climbs up
and lies down. Christina snuggles in close to her.

This will be the fourth night they've been back
with the co-sleeping thing. Kayla's been upset ever since she saw the
"mean lady spirits" on TV. She thinks they want to take her daddy
away.

"You'll still see him," she had
assured Kayla.  Just like you used
to.

"Not if he goes away," she had cried.

"Well, if all communication is cut off,
I'm sure he won't go to the Other Side." After saying this, Christina
worried it was a lie.  But then she
told herself it wasn't. She knows Albert will always put his daughter's needs
over his...spiritual development.

For the past four days, Christina has also
repeatedly told her daughter that it's unlikely they'll figure out how to stop
the communicating. "Just because people want something, it doesn't mean it
will happen."

Her reassurances aren't sinking into her
daughter's head.

She runs her fingers through her daughter's
dark hair. "I love you," she whispers.

"Hi Daddy."  Kayla says. She sits up in bed.

"Hi, Albert."  Christina says.

"He says hi back, and he loves you."

Christina smiles.

"Oh!" Kayla says. "I forgot,
Mommy. I love you too.  I forgot to
say that."

"Thank you," Christina says. She
loves when Kayla is so thoughtful.

"Daddy says he loves us both to
infinity."

"And I love you both to infinity
too," Christina says.

Kayla listens quietly; then bursts into
hysterical giggles.

"Okay. That's enough you two,"
Christina says. "The living people in this room need their sleep."

* * *

Christina talks to a friendly customer about
vegan protein sources while nearby Kayla practices standing on one leg. She's
better with the right side than the left.

"Look, Mommy!" she
calls out, interrupting.

Christina apologizes to the customer and
quickly glances at her daughter. Again. "That's great, Sweetie!" Fortunately,
the customer's understanding. She says she has a niece.

They talk a bit more; then the customer leaves
with her purchase.

Christina decides to take the time before the
next customer arrives to check her email.

There's nothing from her father.  She keeps hoping he'll give up his ban
on electronic communication.

There's an email from Loretta in Sydney. Their
restaurant is still a big hit. We have
enough money now to travel! Maybe
we'll come visit you in Hawaii!  I
would love for our kids to meet. William just needs the courage to let go of
the reins for awhile.

Christina smiles.  She'd love that.

She keeps reading.

Oh. Wow.

The female OS broadcast—One of the women
was Loretta's mother! The one who spoke first. We haven't heard much from her. She's been
very distant from all of us.  We
wondered why.

Christina continues reading until Kayla
whispers loudly. "There are two spirits here now."

Christina looks up. "Welcome to Magic
Dirt," she says to the visitors she can't see.

Kayla squishes up her nose. "One of them
smells."

Smelly spirit?  That's a new one. "Really?"
Christina says and then feels bad, worrying that they've probably insulted this
EB.

"I don't like him," Kayla says.

"Kayla—" Christina starts to
scold her daughter; then stops as she realizes the absurdity of the whole
scene. She feels like an unstable mother who's taking her child's imaginary
friends way too seriously.

Though that's not the case.

Christina starts again. "Sometimes people
smell bad, but that doesn't mean they're bad people."

Kayla shakes her head. "You don't get it,
Mommy."

Christina can't help but laugh.

Then the door of the store opens. Customers she
can actually see!

She immediately recognizes one of them. It's the
woman with the scary EB daughter. She's with another woman and she looks much
more confident than before.
Did she manage to get rid of her ghost?  Or maybe she's found peace with her
daughter?

"Hi!" she calls out.

Both women walk over to the counter, their
steps in unison. The second one holds a clipboard.

"Hi!
We're from—"

Christina doesn't hear the rest, because
she's distracted by Kayla who's scolding one of the spirits. Maybe the smelly
one?

Christina directs her attention back to the two
women. "I'm sorry.  Can you
repeat that?"

The other woman (not the tormented mother)
speaks. "Yes. We're from a new organization called SOSALS."

"Okay?" Christina waits for more.

"It's an acronym," the tormented
mother says.

Christina had already guessed that, but she
doesn't say so.

The second woman says, "It stands for the
Support of Spirits and the Living Separating."

"Did you see the broadcast on TV?"
the tormented mother asks.

"Yes," Christina says.

"We support their views," the
tormented mother says. "We're looking for like-minded individuals who will
join us."

"What we'd like," the second woman
says, is for you to sign this pledge that vows you will stop talking to any
deceased individuals. And if you can give us a donation....any amount will be
appreciated. The money will go toward research. We're looking for ways to put a
stop to all of this."

Christina hopes her daughter is busy, with the
smelly spirit and his companion, and isn't hearing any of this.

"Do you think there's a way to stop
this?" Christina asks quietly.

"Definitely," both women say together
with confidence. Then the second one adds, "If we're willing to work
together and all make sacrifices."

"So will you sign?" the tormented
mother asks.

Christina sighs. She hates being disagreeable,
especially with people who are so passionate. And she understands, with the
mother's personal story, why she'd want the communications to end.

The women don't seem pleased with her
hesitation.

"You might feel things are okay now,"
the second woman says. "But things are only going to get worse."

Kayla cries out.  "Go away!"

Christina and the two women turn to her. Tears
stream down Kayla's face. At first, Christina thinks she's talking to the
women, that she's heard the conversation and knows their purpose. But she's not
looking towards them. She's looking to where the spirits had been before.

Christina excuses herself and goes to her
daughter. She puts her arms around her. "Are you okay?"

"I don't like it," Kayla says.

"What?"

"The smelly one."

"Is he still here?"

She nods sadly. "It's still here."

"Is she okay?” the second woman asks.

"Yes," Christina says with no plans
to explain that her daughter’s a medium.

"Maybe we should come back later,"
the tormented mother says.

The second one adds. "Please consider
signing."

"I'll think about it," Christina
lies. She's not in the mood for a debate.

The women both nod sternly. Together they walk
towards the exit.

The second one opens the door, then stops and
turns around to look at Christina. "Please remember that when the gates of
heaven open, the gates to hell will soon follow."

"Is that in the Bible?" Christina
asks, curious.

"No," the woman says.  "It's just common sense."

Kayla then calls out. "Your daughter is
here. She's really sad".

The tormented mother stops and takes a step
forward. She gives Christina a look of wrath that could instantly kill a
thousand kittens. Then she turns around and walks out.

***

According to Kayla, the daughter has followed
them home.

"Her name's Lenora," Kayla says when
they're in the kitchen. They're making sandwiches with almond butter and cherry
jam.

"Her mother was the one in the
store?" Christina asks.

"Yeah."

"She's not the one who smells?"
Christina says.

Kayla shakes her head.

"Her friend is the one who smells?"

"They're not friends," Kayla
says.  "It just follows
her."

Christina feels a chill as things starting
coming together in her little brain. "Can you ask Lenora how long he's
been following her?"

"How long has it been following you?"
Kayla asks.

Christina waits for the answer.

"A long time," Kayla says. "Can
I have grape juice?"

"Yes," Christina says. "But
mixed with water."

"Aw, shit."  Kayla says.  "Really?"

Christina struggles to look stern rather than
amused. "No grape juice if you're going to use that language."

"Sorry," Kayla says. Then she talks
Lenora. "No, you can't have any of our grape juice. You're a spirit.  You have to get your own
food."  She looks
frustrated.  "From your
imagination.  You use your
imagination to get food." Kayla sighs with frustration. "She's a bit
dumb."

"Kayla!"

Christina is relieved to see a look of guilt on
Kayla's face. "Sorry again," she says.

"What's with you today?" She gets out
the grape juice and then realizes she needs to ask something. "Is that
smelly spirit here now?"

"No," Kayla says. She listens for a
bit; then adds, "It goes away sometimes and then
it comes back."  More
listening. "Oh. Really?"

"What’s she saying?"  Christina asks.

"Sometimes it goes inside her," Kayla
says. Then to Lenora she says. "You know what that means?  You get possessed."

Possessed. Christina's impressed Kayla knows
that word, and at the same time she's a bit unnerved by the whole situation.

Maybe a lot unnerved.

Kayla says to Christina.  "She doesn't know that word.  Her vocabulary isn't as good as
mine."

* * *

Christina decides to skip the bit where they
sleep in their own beds and then Kayla comes to join her. Her daughter's going
to end up in her bed anyway. Why not just start there?

To her surprise, Kayla isn't keen on the idea. "No, I start in
my own room.  I'll come in
later."

Christina doesn't know what to do. She's
scared, but does that mean she should feed her fears to her daughter? That's
not good parenting, is it?

But what if you're scared of something that's
truly threatening. Is it okay to share your fears then? "What about the
smelly spirit?" Christina asks, hoping she's not making a huge
life-damaging parenting mistake.

"It's gone."

"What if it comes back?"

"Daddy will protect me," Kayla says.

"Is he here now?"

"No, but he'll come if I need him."

Christina wonders…is this true?  Does Albert know when his daughter might
be in danger? Or is it just wishful thinking on Kayla's part.

"Lenora’s gone now too." Kayla says.

"Oh."

"So it's okay if I say she's dumb now. She
can't hear me."

"It's still not nice. And just because she
doesn't know all that you know, it doesn't mean she's dumb."

Kayla crosses her arms over her chest, not
convinced.

"And she might know things you don't know.
Did you ever think of that?"

Kayla shakes her head.

"She might," Christina tells her
daughter.

"Probably not."  Kayla says.

Christina decides not to argue. She gets
Kayla's Hello Kitty toothbrush ready, and watches as her daughter brushes her
teeth. "Don't forget the back ones."

* * *

After Christina puts Kayla into bed, she
FaceTimes Albert. She expects him to know what's happened to them today; you
know, the idea that spirits should be all-knowing.

He doesn't know until she tells him. Then he
looks concerned. "Smelly spirit," he says. "Maybe it's
evil."

"Maybe I'm just unnerved from what those
women said. Gates of hell opening. Then Kayla starts talking about
possession."

"Well, at least we can be impressed with
her vocabulary."

Christina smiles, then stops. She realizes
something. "What if Kayla becomes possessed?"

She waits for Albert to reassure her. He
doesn't. He looks even more concerned.

"You think it can happen?" Christina
asks, her voice trembling.

"I have no idea," Albert says.

"And is there a hell?"

"I don't know that either."

Christina thumps the computer screen.
"You're supposed to know these things."

Albert shrugs his shoulders. "Sorry."

"Well, what should we do?"

"I'll stay here with you guys."

"You'll protect us?" Christina asks.
"Do you know how to fight a smelly demon ghost that may or may not be from
hell?"

"I'll do my best," Albert says. He covers
his face with his hands for a moment; then looks up. "I'm sorry I wasn't
here today."

"Where were you?" Christina asks, not
as an accusation of abandonment. Just curiosity.

"Some of us have gathered together to make
sure those women don't get their way. The living ones and the OS ones. We don't
want to lose our connection to you guys."

Christina nods, very touched that keeping
together is as important to her husband as it is to her.

"Though now I'm thinking maybe all those
women have a point. Maybe this wasn't meant to be and it's going to lead to bad
things."

"Please don't say that,"
Christina says, but she worries there's a part of her that agrees with
him.

Chapter
Twenty-One

ATLANTA-Jennifer
sings "Edelweiss" as she spoons the Lamb Bhuna
over the rice on Philip's plate. She wonders if Trisha is listening.

She places a Samosa on the plate. Then she
serves herself the same.

Philip had picked up the Indian food from a
nearby restaurant. They usually eat take-out food or go out to eat. Jennifer
hasn't cooked for months. Philip has said he wants to save her the hassle,
which is very nice of him. Jennifer tries not to think that what he's really
saying is he hates her cooking.

Philip sits nearby on the couch, in the living
room, talking to someone on FaceTime. It's an EB. Philip finally has one in his
life. They're working on some kind of project together. Jennifer thinks
"business deal" in her mind, but then considers whether or not that
term is appropriate. There's no money involved. Can it still be business?

According to Philip they're trying to
counteract the goals of "your foolish mother". A few days back, she
had appeared on television with some of her…friends? They want to stop the
living and not-living from communicating.

Philip said, "Leave it to your mother to
want to take us back to the Stone Age."

Jennifer didn't remind him that this whole
communication thing began only fourteen months ago.  It's not like her mother wants to take
them back to the 16th century. That being said, Jennifer disagrees with her
mother. She agrees with her husband that this is all a good thing. She wouldn't
want to lose Trisha. She also likes knowing that if that something happens to
someone she loves, she'll still be able to get in
touch with them.

It hurts that her mother wants to stop the
communications rather than celebrate them.

Jennifer gets glasses from the cabinet and
takes some Cokes out of the refrigerator.
She pours the Cokes into the glasses, sets them on the table, and then
puts the Indian food there as well. It would be nice to drink some wine, but
Philip isn’t into that.

"Philip," she calls to him.
"When you're ready."

"I'll be right there," he says.

He keeps his word. He ends the conversation and
joins her at the table.

They both start eating.

Philip says. "Is Taylor out with her
friends tonight?"

"No," Jennifer says. Taylor hardly
goes out with friends anymore. She usually stays upstairs exercising.

"Where is she?"

"In her room?"

Philip sighs. He goes back to eating. Then he
puts his fork down. Jennifer looks up at him. His face is getting that tense
look, the one that precludes a storm.

"If she's going to be living here, I think
it's reasonable for us to expect her to join us for meals." He looks at
Jennifer, expecting a response. She tries to think of one. "Well, do you
agree with me?"

"Yes," she says. "Although I
don't know if she'll want to eat Indian food."

"I don't care what she eats.  She needs to be here."

"I agree," Jennifer says. He does
have a point, though she doesn't think it's horrible for a wife and husband to
have dinner alone.

"I'll go get her."

"Okay."

* * *

A few minutes later, Taylor comes downstairs
with Philip. Jennifer expected her to look angry, but instead she just looks
tired. Like
always, she's wearing her gym shorts, gym shoes, a t-shirt, and a
pedometer.

Philip sits down. He looks up at Taylor.
"Please sit."

"Do you want me to get you some Indian
food?"

"What is it?"

"Lamb and rice," Jennifer says.
"You can half of my samosa if you'd like." Is she really going to
eat?

"I'm not really into lamb." Taylor
says.

"I can make you something else,"
Jennifer says.

"I'm not really hungry."

"That's fine," Philip says. "But
you need to sit here."

"Okay."

Jennifer goes back to eating.  She looks up and sees Taylor staring at
her plate.  How could she look at
the food…smell it, and not want any of it?
"You have eaten
today?"  Jennifer asks her
daughter.

"Of course,"
Taylor says.

"Good," Jennifer says. "I don't
want you to starve."

Taylor gives her a
small smile.

"Have any of you heard from Arthur? Philip
asks.

Taylor shakes her head.

"Not for a few days," Jennifer says.
"He called after seeing Mom on TV."

Taylor smiles.

Philip looks at her. "What's so
funny?"

"I just thought it was funny seeing
Grandma on TV—leading a revolution."

"I don't think it's that funny,"
Philip says. "In fact, I think you're being a bit ignorant."

"Sorry," Taylor says quietly.

She and Jennifer share a brief look. Jennifer
hopes Philip hasn't noticed.

It seems he hasn't. Or he's ignoring it.

"How about Zoe?"

"I haven't heard from her," Taylor
says.

Jennifer can't remember if she's heard from Zoe
lately. She may have gotten an email. Although if memory serves her correctly,
it was just one of those forward things.

"I assume she's out with Mickey,"
Jennifer says.

"Nope," Philip says, looking quite
tense again. "He's going out with some guys from the office."

On a Friday night?  Was there something wrong?

"Is everything okay?" Taylor asks.

"I hope so," Philip says.  "She'd be foolish to mess this one
up."

Jennifer wonders how he knows it's her who's
messed things up...if something is
actually messed up.  "Maybe
they're going out to tomorrow," she says.

"I'll call her later, and we'll find out
for sure," Philip says.

Jennifer comes to her last forkful of lamb and
decides she's still hungry. She gets up to get more. "Are you sure you
don't want anything?" she asks Taylor.

Taylor takes a moment to answer. "No, thanks."

"Can you get me more lamb while you're
up?" Philip says.

"Of course," Jennifer says.  She goes back to the table and takes his
plate.

Chapter
Twenty-Two

SAN FRANCISCO-Dennis walks
down 4th street, trying to relieve his feelings of restlessness.  He's supposed to be at work, but this
morning he called Abby and asked if she could handle things on her own today.
She reminded him that Jodie is supposed to be coming in as well. The two of
them will be fine. "No worries," she says. "Take care of
yourself."  He's embarrassed by
the concern in her voice.

It's the sixth time he's missed work in the
last couple of weeks. This is new for someone who's worked seven days a week
for the last eight years.

Work used to be his solace. Now he dreads
facing the customers. He hates making small talk, and he hates answering their
ignorant questions. He hates overhearing their conversation, especially when
they're taking place on cell phones.

He's considering putting up a sign. No Cell
Phones in Store! People may be put off by that, but they can deal with it.

He passes an Indian restaurant and has a vague
memory of eating there with Nancy. Is this the one that had the Indian pizza?
He peers inside. Yes, it seems it is.

Did they like the pizza?  Funny thing—he can't quite
remember.

He keeps walking, passes a clothes store, and
more memories seep in. Nancy had wanted to look inside.  He had waited outside and played one of those
trivia games on his iPhone. What was it called again? He can't remember.

She came out with a purchase, not for herself,
but for Christina. A blouse. He can't remember the color now. He wonders if
Christina had liked it.

He
misses his wife, and he misses his daughter. He keeps meaning to write to
Christina, but can't find the energy. He also hasn't stuck Kayla's drawings
onto the bulletin board.  He keeps
meaning to do it.

He'll probably do it tomorrow.

A woman passes him on the sidewalk and knocks
into him. She's carrying a bag with something heavy inside. It hits him on the
thigh.

It hurts.

"Excuse me. Sorry." She says it so
cheerfully as she leaves him behind. She's busy talking to someone on her
phone. That's why she didn't see him.

He wants to yell at her.

He doesn't, of course.

He takes a deep breath. Counts to ten.

He feels everything caving in.

There's no escape.

He feels like falling, right here on the
sidewalk.

What would happen if he did that? Would someone pick him
up? Would they call the police?

Would he be put away in one of those
hospitals?  Right now, the idea
doesn't seem awful.

He then sees a liquor store.

He stares at it for a moment; then quickly
walks away.

He rushes back home and changes into some boxers
and a t-shirt. He looks at his leg, wondering if he'll end up with a bruise.

He then realizes he needs to have a bowel
movement.

He does that, not reading a magazine or
newspaper. He's stopped with those. Now he reads only books.  In the bathroom, he has a collection of
short stories by F Scott Fitzgerald.

He tries to concentrate on the stories, but he
can't.

After the bathroom, he lies on the bed. He
reaches out and touches the side of the bed where his wife used to sleep.

"Hello," he says—not to her
spirit—but to her memory.

He wants a drink.

It's been nine years.

He was a mess after the kids were killed. His
wife was the strong one, and she got him to agree to the whole AA thing.

He managed only one meeting. He didn't like the
higher power talk.

He didn't like the woman who spoke of Jesus
helping her through it all.
It reminded him of all the cruel nonsense he had heard at
the funeral. The foolish sympathy cards—

Your children are with the angels now.

God gives you only what you can handle.

We lift you up unto the Lord.

God wipes the tears you cry.

His dislike of religion must have shown on his
face at the meeting. A young man approached him afterward and said, "Is it
my imagination, or does the God stuff annoy you as much as it does me?"

Dennis had been so glad to find someone who
shared his feelings.

"It's hard for an atheist in AA," the
man had said.

Prior to that meeting, Dennis had never
considered himself an atheist. He never really thought much about it. He did
know what it meant; he just never considered applying it to himself.

He wasn't sure if he didn't believe in God. At
that point, he just didn't like God.

The new friend told Dennis he wanted to start a
group for alcoholic atheists. He had given Dennis his phone number.

Dennis meant to call him, but lost his number.

He went to a few more AA meetings and decided
he'd rather give up the meetings than the beer. Nancy didn't like that. So he
gave up both the meetings and the
beer.

He kept busy with work.

And he started researching atheism.

He joined newsgroups. There he found
friends and solace.

Sometimes he tried to get Nancy onboard, but
she wasn't interested. "I don't know if there's an afterlife. You're
probably right.  It's a
delusion.  But imaging I might see
the kids one day?  It keeps me
going."

Dennis shared his view. "We keep going
until it's our end. Then all the pain of missing them will stop. None of it
will matter."

She thought for a moment. "Makes
sense." But despite her understanding, she kept believing her own thing.

Chapter
Twenty-Three

ATLANTA-Zoe
frantically looks for an exit. There's one to their left. She heads to the
door, screaming for Arthur to come with her before more zombies appear. She
leads. He follows. They're about to get out the door when a small figure
appears. She thinks it's a zombie, but then sees it's not. It's a child—A
young boy, about eight or nine years-old.

"Please help me," he says.

"Come on!" Zoe yells at both of them.
"We have to go. Now!"

She runs with Arthur and the boy, but when they
get to the hall, she stops. "Wait," she asks the child. "Have
you been bitten?"

"Yes," the boy admits.

Oh, shit!

She looks to Arthur.  He says, "We'll deal with it
later."

"We have to deal with it now! We can't have him in the car with
us like that."

"Later!" he says sternly. There's no
time to argue. Just a lot of time to be terrified.

They keep running.

On the way out of the building, they come
across a group of children around the same age as the first boy. Zoe knows
they're going to need to try to save all of them, but it seems impossible.

How will they all fit in the car?

She yells at them to run, although they still
have time. The zombies are still in the building.

Well, never mind.

Now they're outside too, and there're a lot of
them.

She runs with the kids and Arthur.

She doesn't feel she can run fast enough.

The distance between their group and the zombie
group shrinks.

As she gets closer to the car, she yells at the
kids not to worry about putting on seat belts. "Just get in and slam the
door!" Can the kids hear her over all the commotion?

She sees a few of the ones in back get grabbed
by rotting hands. She has no time for mourning or regret.  She keeps running. The car door feels
miles away, but then she finally reaches it. She feels the handle, then feels a
bony hand on her shoulder. She screams hysterically as she sees the deadened
face about to bite her.

Then he appears out of nowhere.

Unlike everyone else, the boyfriend doesn't
look at all frantic. He looks perfectly calm.

He gently pushes the zombie away from Zoe.

He comes right back at her. The boyfriend
pushes him away again. He doesn't seem at all concerned.

"He's going to kill me!" Zoe
cries.  Why isn't he worried?  What kind of boyfriend is he?

The boyfriend smiles. "You're fine,
Zoe." he says. "All of this? It's just your imagination."

"No…" she says.

"Look. Try this. Think of the zombies
dancing."

She tries.

The zombies don't dance.

But they do stop chasing and attacking. They
stand there looking confused.

"Oh," Zoe says, kind of speechless.

"Now get them to dance."

She tries again. She imagines them
salsa-dancing.

The zombies continue to stand there.

The boyfriend looks at the zombies, then to her.
"Well…uh, you'll have to learn how to do that eventually, but for now
you're okay."

"So they're just figments of my
imagination." Zoe feels quite relieved. It's nice to know she's not going
to be torn apart by teeth, after all. Then she remembers to ask the question.
"What about you, Keith? Are you
a figment of my imagination?"

* * *

Zoe wakes up feeling no relief that she's been
saved by zombies. That feeling is long gone and it's been replaced by the same feeling
she's felt all week after waking up. She's very frustrated and slightly
depressed.

She keeps asking the boyfriend if he's a
figment of her imagination or not. Every time she asks, she wakes up.

If
he was not a figment of her imagination, he would tell her.

No,
I'm your lover from a past life.

No, I'm an alien and I'm with a group
who's decided to replace anal probes with dream visits.

No, I'm a ghost, and I'm madly in love
with you. Do you still want to be my girlfriend?

Zoe's little sliver of hope, that it's
not just her imagination, is getting smaller and smaller.

The fact is she's been reading lots of blogs
and Yahoo Answer stuff about the spirits visiting dreams.  Both ghosts and living people have
answered. They all pretty much the say the same thing. It's hard to visit
dreams and they rarely do it. It's hard to talk through a
Ouija board. It's hard to make toys move across the floor. All of this takes a
ton of energy and experience. Talking on the Internet? Extremely easy.

Why in the world would a dead guy be able to
visit her dreams so often, but not talk to her on FaceTime.  He can’t even send a simple text?

No, Keith is just a figment of her imagination.

Keith?

Where the hell did that come from?

The boyfriend doesn't have a name.

After all these years….

Zoe thinks back to the day before and the days
before the day before. Did she see the name Keith somewhere? How did it get in
her mind? In her imagination?

Well, what does it matter?

If she’s going to ask all that, she should also
ask: How did zombies get in her head?
It's not like she's a fan of The
Walking Dead, or anything.

* * *

Zoe hates doing work-related stuff on the
weekend, but since she's desperate to occupy her mind, she looks at websites
with art project ideas for daycares and preschools.

One website has a picture frame idea for
Connection Day.

What's connection day?

Zoe clicks on the term; it's a link.

Where has she been? Apparently some schools and
communities are lobbying for a holiday to celebrate the reuniting of family
members with their not-so-gone loved ones.

There are arguments over when it should be.

One person puts themselves in the middle of a
flame war by suggesting it replace Easter. Well,
we know Jesus doesn't exist now.

People argue against that.

Zoe skims, but doesn't read.

She goes back to looking at crafts.  She's tired of all the ghost people
stuff. Though she's pretty certain she'd like it if she had a ghost in her
life. But she doesn't. Her grandma Cornelia could have been one of them, but it
isn't working out that way. Not only does Grandma reject all of them, but she
goes on an international broadcast to announce that she's against keeping in
touch with them.

Maybe Zoe is against it too though. It's not
fair to people like her who get stuck with nothing but their imaginary
boyfriends.

Or imaginary Keiths.

Her phone rings.

It's not Keith.

It's her dad.

She doesn't want to answer, but she does.

He counteracts her
trying-not-to-sound-depressed greeting with overzealous, charming, fatherly
enthusiasm.

"How's everything at home?" she asks
him, trying to be polite.

"We're all doing great.  Your mother and I had Indian food; then
we watched a fantastic movie. I forgot the name. It was a thriller. A man worked
at a reptile park. Does it sound familiar to you?"

"No.
Sorry."  Zoe says.

"Well, that's what we did. What did you
do?"

"Not much," Zoe says. "I Just
stayed home."

"On a Friday?" he says. "Was
Mickey with you?"

Mickey, Mickey Mickey.
It's always Mickey with her dad.

"No. He had something else he needed to
do."

"Actually, I talked to him
yesterday," her dad says. "He said he was going out with
friends."

If he knows what Mickey did last night, why is
he asking her if she did something with him?  Sometimes, she really doesn't understand
her father.

"Oh yeah.  He went out with some friends at
work."

"Is everything all right between the two
of you?" he asks.

For a moment Zoe is tempted to just blurt it
all out. Or at least most of it.  Everything
is okay, but it's not good.  It's
never been good.  I don't love
him.  He doesn't love me.  I feel pressured by you to go out with
him and I wish you'd lay off.

She says, "It's pretty okay."

"He
hasn't dumped you, has he?" her father says. "If he has, I can have a
talk with him."

"No…"

"You know if he dumps you, he's
fired."

Would that be even legal? Zoe hopes her dad's
joking. She's pretty certain he is, but you can never be sure. "Dad, I don't
know if...."

"If what?"

"Well…nothing."

"I wouldn't worry too much," he says.
"All relationships have their ups and downs. Just make sure you don't take
him for granted. I know the people Mickey works with. You've seen them. Some of
them are very...well, they're very attractive. And I believe some of them have
their eye on Mickey."

What the hell?  Zoe doesn't even try to respond to
this.

"I'm just saying—you need to keep
your eyes on the prize."

Now she's tempted to say, “Go to hell,"
and hang up the phone. Instead she says, "Okay. Yeah."

Then she makes an excuse to get off the phone.
She has work to do. He respects that and lets her go.

She drops the phone and pulls her knees up to
her chest.  She feels kind of
sick.

* * *

Later that evening, Zoe decides to stop being a
pushover.

She'd like to call her dad and give him a piece
of her mind.

What could she say?

Is there anyway to get through his thick skull?

Maybe.

But she decides not to try.

Instead she'll deal with Mickey. She has hardly
spoken to him this week, not since the boyfriend made his reappearance. Things
are cold between them. But they're not officially over yet.

They need to be over.

She bends down and picks up her cell phone. She
texts Mickey. We need to talk. No,
she's not going to end things with a text message. But she's beginning the end
with a text message. That's okay. Right?

She waits for his response, for some reason
expecting it to come immediately.

It doesn't.

Minutes pass.

Then an hour.

Zoe looks at more preschool art websites. No
projects appeal to her.

Then finally she hears the chirp of her text
message alert.

She picks up her phone and sees the message.
Her heart beats frantically and her hands tremble so much she can hardly hold
the phone.

The message isn't from Mickey.

It's from Keith.

He says:
Zoe!  It's me. Yeah, sorry it's
taken me so long to do this.  I'll
explain everything soon. I love you!!!!"

Zoe drops the phone and starts to cry.

Chapter
Twenty-Four

SYDNEY-In the
backseat of a chauffeured car, Loretta looks out the window while Mia chatters
away with her grandmother who sits in the front seat with the driver. Despite
the mild winter chill, Mia is wearing her favorite yellow sandals with
sparkles. She had insisted and Loretta decided not to fight her on it. They'd
be spending most of the day indoors, anyway.

Loretta has taken the day off from helping her
husband at the restaurant, and with her mother-in-law, she's taking Mia to
Darling Harbour.

In the past, Loretta has always taken the train
to Wynyard station; then gone from there. Now they
have money though, so William offered to hire a driver. Loretta was fine with
this, though she feels a bit guilty about not doing what's more environmentally
responsible.

She will be giving her daughter a little taste
of public transportation, not that it helps with the environment necessarily.
But children tend to like those things. They're being dropped off at Circular
Quay; then they're going to take the ferry from there. This way they can see
the Opera House.

"Did you hear," Brenda says,
"that Darling Harbour has a place where you can pay to talk to deceased
strangers."

The driver inserts himself into the
conversation by shaking his head and sighing.

"Can we do that?" Mia asks.

"I don't think so, Mia." Loretta
says. "It's not on our pass." They've purchased the Merlin Pass,
which, for a single price, gets them into the aquarium, Wildlife Sydney, and
the wax museum. Besides you have Zachary and Hayden. You know some people have
no spirits to talk to."

"That's like Jayne in my class. She get
sad, because we all have spirits and she doesn't."

"Exactly," Loretta says.

"So she could go to this place in Darling
Harbour. I should tell her about it," Mia says.

"That would be nice of you," Loretta
says.

"I wonder how much it costs," Brenda
says.

"I bet it's not cheap," the driver
says.

Loretta is tempted to say, "Neither is
hiring you as a driver." She gives a little laugh.

"What's so funny?" Mia asks.

"Just thinking about something."

"Thinking about what?"

Loretta tries to change the subject. "I
think the last time we were in Sydney you were five. Or were you four?"

"Five," Mia says. "It was just
before we went to America to see Grandma."

"You're quite talkative," the driver
comments.  He doesn't say it in an
insulting way, which is good, because otherwise Loretta would be tempted to hit
him. She doesn't like having violent thoughts.

"It's been about that long since I've been
here as well," Brenda says.

"No," Mia says. "Remember you
and Grandpa went to that concert at the opera house last winter."

"Oh!
I forgot about that."

"You might have Alzheimer's," Mia
says. "It makes you forget things.
Marsha's grandma has it."

The adults, in the car, all crack up a bit.

"You might end up forgetting about me, so
it's not that funny,"

"You're right," Loretta says.
"It's not a funny disease.
It's really sad. But Mia, I think Grandma’s okay."

"For now," Brenda adds.

"Everyone forgets things sometimes,"
the driver says. "Don't you?"

"Yes," Mia says.  "But I'm very young.  People my age don't get Alzheimer's, so
I'm not worried about it."

Mia continues to talk about various things.
Loretta half listens as she looks out the window. She chides herself for not
coming into the city more. When she first moved here to be with William, they
visited Sydney almost every weekend.
After awhile, the visits turned monthly. The time between visits kept
stretching and by the time Mia was in their lives, they were going less than
yearly.

Life is short.  You have to make the best of it.

It takes almost a minute for Loretta to realize
that philosophy doesn't quite apply anymore. She grins. So yeah. Who needs to
worry anymore? If worse comes to worse (which won't be that bad) she'll be an
EB for awhile and roam Sydney. She can go to the attractions for free. Spirits
don't need a Merlin pass.

*
* *

After the driver drops them off, they trot up
the steps of the Opera House.

They have a few minutes before they need to go
to the wharf to catch the 10:55 ferry. Loretta had wanted to go earlier, but
Mia’s a late sleeper.

"Did you know that the person who designed
the Opera House wasn't Australian?" Mia asks Loretta.

"Yeah, I think I heard that," Loretta
replies. Sometimes she doesn't know if she should play dumb with her daughter
so Mia can feel smart; or if doing that will turn Mia
into a know-it-all.

"He never got to see it," Brenda adds
to the conversation.

"I know," Mia says with dramatic
flair. "Isn't it tragic?"

They reach the top of the steps. Mia does a
twirl; then says, "Let's take a photo!"

"Good idea," Brenda says.

Loretta looks around. A lot of other
people are snapping pictures. Several of them hold their tablets and iPhones up
with their spirit-friends smiling from the screen. This way the spirits can be
in the photo as well.

Brenda takes out her mobile and Loretta takes
out her camera. They take turns photographing each other with Mia.

"Now I'll take a picture of you two!"
Mia says. Loretta and her mother-in-law put their arms around each other. Mia
takes a picture with her mother's camera, then with her grandmother's
iPhone.

"We better get going," Loretta says.
"We don't want to miss the ferry."

* * *

On the way to the wharf, they pass a chocolate
cafe. Loretta loves a cup of healthy herbal tea, but sometimes it's nice to
splurge and have a hot chocolate or Cappuccino.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt if they went on a later
ferry.

Should they stop?

Loretta can't decide, but she does slow down a
bit.

She'll leave it up to Mia. If Mia suggests they
stop, Loretta won't say no. If Mia doesn't ask, Loretta will take it to mean it
isn't meant to be.

To her disappointment, Mia says nothing except,
"Mummy hurry, we're going to be late!"

Loretta picks up the pace. Mia runs ahead.

"Don't go too far ahead," Loretta
calls out.

They get to Circular Quay and search for the
correct ferry.

It's crowded and there's no place to sit.

Mia doesn't seem to mind. She dances as they wait
for the ferry to arrive.

Finally it does and they board.

They find seats inside and give Mia the seat
near the window.

As they pass the giant clown mouth of Luna
Park, Mia announces. "That's going to be my place when I die. I'm going to
hang out there."

"Really," Brenda says.  "Did you just decide that?"

"No, I've had it planned for months."
Mia says. Loretta wonders if it's true.

"You know we can also go there when you're
alive. Someday."

"Really?" Mia says.
"Today?"

"Probably not," Loretta says. Yes,
they have more money now, but there's no need to throw a huge amount away in a
single day.

When they stop at McMahon's point, Loretta
looks at the lovely homes. She wonders what it would be like to live right
there on the harbor.

Probably wonderful.

Maybe the restaurant will keep going well, and
someday—

She
has to admit she doesn't hate the idea. Although then they'll probably need to
move the restaurant.  Otherwise, it
will be too much of a commute for William.

Loretta looks at Mia looking out the window.
"Do you like it here?"

"Yes," Mia says. "It's
heavenly."

* * *

When they get off the ferry at Darling Harbour,
they go to the aquarium first. Loretta's a bit hungry, probably from seeing the
chocolate and then having to forgo it. She figures she can wait a short while
to see the fish and sharks first.

Two hours later, they're still in the aquarium.
Loretta is starving and exhausted...also embarrassed because Brenda, who is in
her seventies, has more stamina. She keeps busy taking photos of Mia looking at
all the animals.

Mia hasn't slowed down a bit. Her legs are full
of energy; so is her mouth.

Their favorite exhibits are the leafy sea
dragons and sharks; though by the time they get to the tunnel with the sharks,
Loretta longs for her bed. Helping her husband at the restaurant is less tiring
than this. She can't believe they still have Wildlife Sydney and the wax museum
left to see.

Before they go into the indoor wildlife park,
Loretta insists on getting something to eat.  Neither Brenda nor Mia argues  against this plan.

They look around for a place to eat and
Loretta’s very pleased to see another chocolate cafe. This time Loretta doesn't
leave it up to fate and her daughter to suggest eating there.

She says she'd like to eat there and then hopes
Brenda and her daughter don't have healthier plans.

"Yes!" Mia says jumping up and down.
"Chocolate for lunch! Chocolate for lunch! I have the best Mummy in the
world!"

Brenda and Loretta look at each other and
laugh.

In the cafe, they share a waffle sundae and
each get a macaron—salted
caramel for Loretta, chocolate banana for Mia, and pistachio for Brenda.

The food's overpriced and they've eaten way too
much sugar in one sitting, but Loretta refuses to regret it.  She'll dance a little harder next week.

* * *

On the walk back to Wildlife Sydney, they pass
the attraction Brenda had spoken about in the car.  It's called Ouija Board.  There's a long line of people outside,
most of them teenagers; but a few adults are there as well.

Haunting new age music plays in the area.
There's an informational sign posted near the line.  Brenda stops to read. Loretta reads over
her shoulder.

Ouija
Board was started for those of us who long to join in the fantastic new
development of communicative connections between the living and spirit world,
but don't yet have adequate opportunities. For a minimal fee, we will connect
you to EB's and OS's who will be strangers at first, but very likely will
become your friends.

Loretta looks at the prices. It's $35 for a
twenty minute chat and a hundred dollars for an hour. It's ludicrous Talk about
taking advantage. It makes her awfully glad they haven't exploited their restaurant
patrons.  Yes, they're making money
now, but it's only because the twins have made their restaurant more popular.
They haven't raised menu prices and they don’t charge any admission fees.

They do sell merchandise. Is that
exploiting?  But a lot of restaurants
sell merchandise. Loretta doesn't think it's a bad thing.  But it’s bad to exploit people's need to
meet friends—whether dead or alive.

She wonders where all these teenagers are
getting the money for this.

"Mummy, can we go." Mia says, looking
bored. "My feet are getting cold."

Loretta bites the urge to comment on Mia's
choice to wear sandals.

"We'll go when Grandma's ready,"
Loretta says.

"I'm ready." Brenda says.

They continue their journey to Wildlife Sydney.

By the time they get to the Southern Cassowary,
Loretta crashes from her chocolate high.
Mia slows down a bit as well. While at the aquarium she stopped to study
and lecture about each animal, here she rushes through everything.

They get through the whole building in less
than twenty minutes. It's a shame because there's a lot to see.

The good thing is the pass gives them unlimited
admission for the year, so they can come back and savor it a bit.

With that in mind, Loretta wonders if they
should simply skip the wax museum and do it another day.  But then she wonders, what if they don't come back in a year?  It's not like they have an impressive
track record when it comes to visiting the city.

She decides to leave it up to her daughter and
mother-in-law.

She asks. They leave it up to her.

Should they go or not go?

It takes them about five minutes to decide what
to do.

They decide to go, which is a mistake. The
attraction's packed. It's always crowded, but it just so happens they ended up
visiting at 3:00 which is when the museum holds their CHAT WITH THE WAX! You
don't literally chat with the wax figure. You chat to the spirit depicted by
the wax figure. And you don't really chat; it's not like a personal
conversation. A crowd gathers by a large computer screen as the spirit talks
about his or her life.

Today they're featuring Victor Chang, a heroic
heart surgeon, who was tragically murdered.

Loretta sees it all from afar. It's too crowded
to hear or see much.
Plus, now Mia has begun to get cranky.

They walk to the ferry wharf. Mia complains
about her feet and her stomach hurting. "You shouldn't have let me eat
chocolate for lunch. That's not good parenting."

Loretta takes her medicine. She deserves it.
But then she dishes out some of her own. "And you shouldn't have worn
sandals."

"You're right," Mia says.

Brenda smiles at both of them. "I'm partly
to blame as well. I could have stopped both of you from making these horrific
mistakes and I didn't."

"So true," Loretta says. "You're
a horrible mother-in-law."

"And a horrible grandma!" Mia adds.

They get to the wharf and find they just missed
the ferry. They'll have to wait twenty-minutes and there's no where to sit.

They all stand. Mia leans on Loretta and closes
her eyes. Loretta has a hard time dealing with the extra weight.  She's close to collapsing.

Chapter
Twenty-Five

LONDON-It's rarely
too hot in London, but today's an exception, and the air conditioner at Brainy
Fun is acting up.

Arthur wonders why he and Emily are here.
Customers come in, likely not looking for toys, but for relief from the
weather. They step in the store, then open the door, and walk out. Not that he
has a problem with that. He'd do the same.

"Are you okay?" he asks Emily from
behind the counter. She straightens up some arctic animal figurines.

"Sure," she says too cheerfully.
"Why?"

"It's hot in here."

"It sure is!" she says.

How do you respond to cheerfulness in the midst
of adversity?

Emily stops straightening penguins and says
"My feeling is we're blessed to have such tolerable conditions on most
days. I think of all the people who have to deal with weather extremes everyday
and they never have heating or air-conditioning. I think we can manage a few
days without AC."

"What about the customers?" Arthur
says, not wanting Pollyanna to win this battle.

"If they need something, they'll stay and
buy it," she says. "I'm not worried."

Arthur isn't worried about them either. He's worried
about himself and he's worried that his shirt's going to end up with armpit
stains.

He decides to try and keep his mind off the
weather. He'll check his phone for email and texts.

There's nothing from Bernard.

There's a group text from his aunt's
mother-in-law who lives in Australia. She's sent a photo of his cousin Mia
looking at fish at an aquarium. She often sends photos to Arthur—and a
lot of other people.

Arthur has never met Mia and wonders if he ever
will. They weren't able to come to either wedding. They came back to the states
to visit Arthur's grandmother when she was dying of cancer, but Arthur had been
at UCLA at the time and didn't visit until a few weeks later.

He wonders—is there that much difference
between having a relative that's a ghost and one who lives in Australia?

A customer comes in the shop.  She must have Emily's disease, because
she doesn't seem to notice the heat.

"Can I help you?" Arthur asks.

"Do you have board games?"

"Yes, right there in the back. To the left."
He points her in the right direction.

She smiles and heads off to board game land.

Arthur wonders if he should wait until she
leaves before checking his email. He knows Emily is fine with doing phone stuff
at the shop, but doubts she's okay if he does it when customers are there.

He'll wait.

He waits.

And waits.

She's taking too long.

Should he go and check on her?

No, that would be too intrusive. Besides, Emily
is around there somewhere. She can help if needed.

He decides to check his email. There's
promotional stuff from Amazon.com and Spotify, an email from Zoe, and an email
from his dad.

Zoe's email is very short. It says. I ended things!

Arthur
hopes she's referring to her relationship with what's-his-name and that he's
not getting an email from the ghost version of his sister.

His dad's email isn't short.

He says:

Arthur,

I have fantastic
news! I presume you will be as excited about this as I am!

A good friend of mine
is involved in a film production being made right here in Atlanta. It's about
Julia Nichols. You may have heard of her but if not, she's the first EB to
reach out to a relative with the Internet.

It's going to be a
fantastic film! I predict it will win several awards. I'm rarely wrong about
these things!

The best news is I
talked to my friend and told him I had a son who's a very talented actor.
They're going to pull some strings and get you an audition. I know you won't
want to miss this once in a lifetime opportunity.

You'll need to
come to Atlanta, but there's no need for you to worry about that. I'll fly you
over, all expenses paid! Bernard is welcome to come too if he's not busy with
work.

I understand you
may need to think about this before giving me an answer. That's fine, but
please don’t take too long. I would like to start making arrangements.

Love,

Dad

Yuck.

Arthur feels sick and furious. He wonders if
he's insane, because isn't gratitude and love for one's father the sane thing
to feel after reading such an email?

He doesn't want to get another job through his
father's connections.

He wants to get it on his own so his father has
to admit. "Hey! Miracle of miracles! My offspring do have the capability to achieve things without my help."
Arthur would like to imagine this realization would make his father happy, but
he can't help but believe it would anger him.  Of course, he'd try to hide it.  If he tried to point it out to his
father, Arthur would be accused of being wrong...and paranoid.

The customer returns from the back with a large
pile of board games. She can hardly carry them. Arthur rushes out from behind
the counter to help.

He tries to grab the games on top and ends up
causing all the games to fall.  Some
land on his feet and some land on the customer's.

"I'm so sorry." He tries hard not to
give into the temptation to bawl.

She smiles kindly. "Accidents
happen."

"Is your foot okay?" he asks.

"No. It hurts."  He appreciates her honesty. Sort of.
"But don't worry. I'm not going to sue or anything."

Okay. That's good. But maybe he should give her
a discount? What are you supposed to do in situations like this?

The father-in-his-head says, It
would help if you weren't such a klutz in the first place.

Arthur tells his imaginary father to shut up.

He'll give her a 20% discount. Emily would
likely agree to that. Should he ask her?

He picks the games up off the floor. The
customer helps.

Then he rings her up with the discount.

Later he tells Emily about it.

"I would have given her a higher
discount," she says, making him feel like even more of a failure. Now he
feels cheap on top of everything else. She must notice his despair because then
she adds. "But 20% is fine too, of course."

They have no customers for the next several
hours.

Arthur keeps busy with his sweating and he
dwells obsessively over his father's email.

Chapter
Twenty-Six

ATLANTA-Zoe waits to
hear from Keith. She’s been keeping busy though, by hearing from other people
and letting people hear from her.

She broke up with Mickey. Although she's not
sure it fully counts as a break up, seeing that they were never officially
dating.

He called her hours after she sent the text. "What's
up?" he asked

They did the small talk thing. Then she changed
the channel and got to the point. Hey, maybe this isn't working. Do you agree?

He said he thought they were just having fun.
It's not a big deal. Whatever she wants to do.  It's all up to her. He’s fine either
way. He
really didn’t seem too bothered by any of it.

Well, she found that a bit offensive, but what
gave her the right to complain? That's done. Over. She tries not to think about
how her dad will feel…or react.

She emailed Arthur about it. She expected him
to write back immediately, but she still hasn't heard from him. Who's going to
talk to her first, her brother or the ghost man?

She received a bunch of photos from her
adorable niece in Sydney. They went to an aquarium, a wildlife park, and a wax
museum.

Her aunt Loretta sent some of the photos, and
then her cousin's other grandmother (the one that doesn't connect Mia to Zoe)
sent some others.

Zoe decides she'd like to go to Australia one
day. She'd also like to return to England.

Answering emails and texts doesn't take all
day, so Zoe also spends time web surfing.

She spends about a minute reading about more
preschool craft ideas. This gets old fast.

She reads articles about her grandmother's
organization. It doesn't have a name. Or maybe they have one, but haven't
shared it with the living. It makes sense, since a lack of communication is the
whole goal.

There's actually an editorial about it. The
writer pointed out that it's hypocritical for the women to speak out against the
ghosts communicating with the living by making three international broadcasts.
The writer compared it to filmmakers who make ultra-violent films in order to
protest violence in films.

After reading all that, Zoe reads about eating
disorders.  She's too happy and
excited to worry much.  She's pretty
certain it’s all going to be fine.

* * *

Keith texts her at 8:00 pm. Finally! Can you talk now?

Yes.  I've been waiting all day.
She isn't too bothered about sounding too anxious. The guy was
in her dreams. How much can she hide from him?

I'll
do FaceTime with you. Is that okay?

She says yes. Then waits.

And waits. She's excited yet anxious.

Twenty-minutes later, she wonders if he's
trying to drive her insane.

Or maybe her grandmother's plan has come to
fruition and all communication has been cut off.

Then thirty-minutes later, she hears the
FaceTime alert sound.

Her hand's shaking a bit when she answers on
her computer.

Her dream boyfriend stares back at her.

He gives her a shy smile.

She gives a small smile back, feeling quite
nervous. It's
a bit awkward…the man in your dreams coming out and appearing on your computer
screen.

"So…" he says. "What's up?"
It's really strange hearing his voice. "Are you doing okay?"

"I think so," she says.

They both sit there not saying anything.

Zoe has an awful feeling that it's all been
ruined. By talking to each other in the real world, their relationship has
jumped the shark.

It's quite depressing.

"This is weird," Keith says.

"Yeah."

She's pretty certain he's going to say,
good-bye, great knowing you, have a nice life.  Instead he says. "I really love
your dreams. You've always had a fabulous imagination."

"Really?"

"The zombie one was fun. Probably scary
for you though."

"Thanks for saving me."

"You're very welcome."

Silence again.

Shit.

Maybe her dad has been right all along.
Maybe Mickey is the man for her. That
thought totally depresses Zoe.

"Do you have any questions?" Keith
asks.

She has millions. The thing is now she can't
think of any.

"You're probably wondering why I didn't
contact you earlier."

That's a great one. "Yeah."

"I was nervous."

"About what?"

"Us both feeling awkward," he smiles.
"Like now."

"And you worried it would ruin
everything?"

"Oh, no," he says, sounding very sure
of himself. "Not at all. We've almost always been together." He
chuckles. "I'd never imagine one awkward video chat would end things.

Always?
"Like reincarnation?"

"You got it," he says. Then he smiles
a reminiscing type smile. "We've been together a lot. I'll go over the
history later."

"Okay." Then she thinks of another
question. "Why…I mean how are you in so many of my dreams?  I've read that it's really hard to do
that."

"It is."

"So?"

He smiles. "I'm special." That's
it?  "Or I should say we're
both special?  It's not as if I can
jump into other people's dreams. Not that I've tried much."

Now she's feeling more comfortable, and the
questions begin flowing. "Why did you disappear for five years?"

"I was here. Well, not here with you. I
mean I was alive. In Wyoming. The Powers that Be had this theory that we need
to spend a life apart. Soul Growth or something. Although I guess we weren't
apart since we had the dreams. They never said I couldn't do that. But then I
was assigned to my new family."

Zoe likes knowing he hadn't left her on
purpose. "So then the boss people changed their mind?"

He shakes his head. No, it was supposed to be a
full term life. I got myself run over by my mom on the driveway.

Oh no.
"I'm sorry," she says.
Although she's glad he's here. "I'm guessing it was an
accident?"

"Yes," he says.  "At least on my mom's
part."  He looks guilty and
embarrassed. "I think though that I did it on purpose. I think a part of
me knew that you were out there and I didn't like being separated from
you."

So sweet. Zoe's done with feeling awkward and
is now back to feeling in love.

"It's been a mess though. My mom was
arrested because the police thought she did it on purpose. You know, parents
have been killing their kids these days.
It's easier to have a ghost child than a real one."

Zoe hadn't known that. She wonders if any of
her daycare parents are getting ideas.

"I've been back there, talking to her and
the police."

"Do they understand you're the same person
as the child?"

"Well, when I talk to her I appear as that
incarnation.

Interesting. "What are you now?  I mean what am I seeing?"

"This is how I looked in the last life we
had together.

"When was that?" she asks, quite
fascinated...and a bit overwhelmed.

"You died in 1982, and I died in
1968."

"I was alive in the 70's!"  How funny is that?

"You were alive for a lot of
decades."

Cool. And again...overwhelming.

"So, your name was Keith?"  She's wondering what her name was.

"No. Keith was the name I had in my last
life.  I'm using it as a…well, I feel bad what I did to my parents. I guess it's my
way of honoring them.

"I never knew your name in the
dreams."

"Really?  Maybe I never told you."

"Why?" she asks.

He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. Or
maybe I did and you forgot. You know, people forget parts of dreams when they
wake up."

"So what was your name?" she asks.

"Tom."

"And mine?"

"Bernice."

She smiles at that. It sounds so old-fashioned.
Then she thinks of more questions. "Are you on the other Side, or are you
earthbound?"

"Both."

"Both?  I didn't think that was possible."

"It is. In rare cases."

"What are you, Harry Potter?"

He smiles. "Right now I'm OS. I thought it
would be rude to invade your privacy on our first meeting.  You know EB people can only talk to you
if they're in the same room."

She's pretty certain she didn't know that. She
thinks of something, making her feel quite clever. "You came into my
dreams. Isn't that an invasion of privacy?"

He laughs. "You're very right.  Do I owe you an apology?"

She smiles. "No."

Chapter
Twenty-Seven

Eugene
pumps away inside his future wife. He's getting tired.

She looks tired and bored.

After they had the great sex last week, they
decided to try again.

They've gone at it every night.

Each night it's diminished in quality.

Now it's gone to shit.

He's been inside her for…well, it's not like he's
been watching the clock. But it's been a long time, and he's tired.

Is she ever coming to come?

Is he?

He remembers those days when he had to fight so
hard not to come too soon. He'd think of non-sexy things like bird flu
pandemics and Norovirus outbreaks on cruise ships.

Now he should do the opposite thing.

Sexy stuff. Other women.

Katy Perry.

Not working.

The woman in line behind him at Shake Shack a
few days ago.

Not working.

America Ferrera, both with the Ugly Betty costume and without.

Not working (which surprises him)

Jessica Lange.

Ah. He feels something there.

He gets more into it.

He fucks faster.

He's going to come.

Then he feels himself being pushed out…his poor
little buddy back out into the cold world.

Shit!

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"It's starting to hurt," Anna says.
"I need to stop."

"Okay," he says, trying to sound
understanding.

"Can you get off of me?" she asks.
It's not just his penis she's rejecting, but his whole body.

He gets up. "I'm going to wash up."

"I know," she says.

He leaves her.

He hates that he has to finish things himself.
Coming into wad of toilet paper was fine in his teen years. Now it makes him
feel desperate and messy.

He goes back to thinking about Jessica Lange.

No. That's ruined for him. He'll definitely
always associate her with rejection for now on.

He tries America Ferrera with the Betty
costume. This time it works for him. He comes fast. Most of it ends up in the
toilet paper, but some ends up on the floor.

He cleans it up.

* * *

The next morning, Anna is more of a mess than
usual. Eugene watches as she pours orange juice over her cereal.  He's not sure if this is accidental or
she's following some type of new food fad.

He watches as she takes a bite.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She
throws down the spoon. It bounces off the table and lands on the floor. Eugene
gets splashed with a drop of milk.

"What's wrong?" He decides to
play dumb.

"I put orange juice in my cereal."

"Oh."

She gets up and dumps the cereal in the sink,
even though they don't have a garbage disposal. Did she forget that?

She gets the cereal box out and pours more
cereal into the bowl.  She gets the
milk out of the fridge and looks at it. "Two percent?  What the fuck? You know I need to lose
weight. I told you to buy skim."

"Don't blame me. You're the one who bought
it,"

She answers with an evil glare. Very evil.  He should shut up—not because she
doesn't deserve a fight,  but this
could actually end up being dangerous.

He watches as Anna pours the milk into her
cereal. Then she tries to put the milk in the freezer. When it doesn't fit, she
gives up and puts it on the counter.

She eats a few bites of cereal, then leaves it
on the counter. She goes into the bedroom.

He decides to be nice by cleaning up for her.
He dumps the cereal in the trash, then cleans out the
cereal she dumped in the sink.

A few minutes later she comes back.
"Where's my cereal?"

Shit. Did she still want that?

He should be honest. Lying doesn't pay. But he
fails to take the noble road. "You dumped it out."

To Eugene's surprise, she believes him.

"Fuck," she says.  "Well, I'm not hungry
anymore." She then stubs her toe, crying out in agony.

"Are you okay?" he asks after she
finishes her monologue of fucks, shits, and other colorful words.

"Yes.
Fine," she says. "I gotta go. I'll see you later today."
She doesn't kiss him goodbye, and that doesn't surprise him.

She walks out and slams the door.

A few minutes later, he hears banging on the
door.

"Let me in, Eugene." For a brief la la land moment, he imagines she's coming back to kiss him.

No.
She forgot her briefcase.

She grabs it off the counter and heads to the
door.

"What's with you?" he asks.
"You're like a chicken running around with its head cut off."

She stops, turns around, and looks at him.
"No, more like a chicken with two heads."

Then she leaves.

Eugene wonders what she meant by that. Two
heads?

Well, who cares what it means.  It sounded clever and that pisses him
off.  He's the writer. Why is he the
one using cliché metaphors while she uses original ones?

* * *

Later Eugene watches nothing interesting on TV.

Then he checks his email.

There's something from a new website dedicated to
the currently most popular subject. They've read some of his other work, and
are wondering if he'll do a story about people (living, OS, and ED) who are not
supportive of the communicating.

He writes back. Yes, he'll do it.

One of the OS women is willing to break her
almost-vow of silence to speak to him. She's available one day only. Next
Wednesday. July 2.

He knows he's free. He's not that busy of a
man; he doesn't have to check his calendar. He does open it though, so he can
write this appointment down.

That's when he sees it.

Anna has her thing this morning. She's being
presented with some kind of women in business award.  Shit!  He totally forgot about it. No wonder
she was crazy this morning.

He still doesn't know what she means about the
chicken though.

That's okay.

He looks at the time. It's 10:45 The lunch is
at 12:00. He has time.

* * *

Does he have anything to wear?

No. Nothing clean, at least.

Does he have to wear a suit? Maybe he can get
away with wearing khakis and a jacket.

Probably not. Though there's no choice.

It's too late to go to a cleaners.

It's too late to even go down the hall to the
laundry room.

You can't wash a suit in there anyway.

He puts on the khakis and a jacket.

Then he can't find the shoes that match.

How can so much get lost in such a tiny
apartment?

He searches.

He finds very dusty shoes that need polishing.

Does he have time for that?

Maybe?

Should he search for the shoe polish?

His Skype alert rings out.

He answers because if he doesn't, Sebastian
will just keep ringing.

He'll talk while searching for the shoe polish.

"Greetings," he says to Sebastian.

"I didn't watch you having sex last
night," Sebastian said.

"Good," Eugene says.
"Thanks."

"I thought you'd appreciate some
privacy."

"I do," Eugene says. "Again,
thanks."

"Where are you rushing off to? Anna's
award thing?"

"Yeah."

"You're wearing that?"

"Yes. Sebastian, you know I love talking
to you, but I'm in a rush."

"You should have started getting ready
earlier."

"I understand that."

"I'm thinking of crossing
over—becoming an OS.  I know
you'll miss me terribly, but I figure it's time." That's the best news
Eugene has heard in months. "We can still chat, but I won't be around to
watch you and keep you company."

"That's devastating," Eugene says.

"I hope you're not being sarcastic."

"Of course not."  More sarcasm on top of sarcasm.
"Look, I really need to go."

"There's no reason you can't talk to me
while getting ready. Ever hear of multi-tasking?"

Eugene has had enough.

He presses the end button on his Skype.

As he predicted, Sebastian keeps ringing.

Eugene keeps ignoring it.

He finishes getting dressed. He shaves a bit.

He dusts off his shoe with his spit on some
toilet paper.

He looks up the event online so he can get the
address (since Anna hadn't been nice enough to stick the info paper up on the
refrigerator)

He looks at his phone as he walks out the door.
Shit. 11:30.

Still. He has time. As long as the train comes on
time. If it comes on time, he'll be early enough to use the bathroom before it
all starts.

Could he grab a bite to eat as well?

Eugene imagines the train being late. That
would be a mess. Maybe he should take a cab?

No, he'll take the subway.

The cab might be better.

No, then he'll have to worry about traffic.

Though if he goes on the subway, he might end
up in a car without air conditioning. He hates that.

He looks out for a cab. He sees a few. They're
off duty.

He gives up and heads to the train station.

He walks down the steps, reaching in his pocket
for his wallet so he can get his Metro card.

It's not there.

Shit!
He left it at home.

He realizes he also doesn't have the money to
pay the cab.

Eugene decides he'll have to walk.

Run…more like it.

He looks at the time. 11:40.

He can't get there in 20 minutes. He'll be
late.  Anna will be pissed.

Whatever. She'll get over it.

He runs north on Broadway, stopping at every
light so he doesn't get run down by a car.

He keeps running.

He's exhausted by the time he gets to Bryant
park. He can't go on anymore. Fuck it. He's going to have to walk the rest of
the way; otherwise, he may have a heart attack.

He walls up Sixth Avenue and finally arrives at
the hotel. He checks his phone, ignoring the fifteen texts from Sebastian.

It's 12:10.

Ten minutes late isn't so bad. He's sweaty and
gross though.

There're a few exhausted tourists in the main
lobby, so he doesn't stand out much. It's a different story for the business
center lobby. He doesn’t fit in well with the suits, shined shoes, and
not-dripping-with sweat foreheads.

Are people staring at him?

Those people are.

Wait, that's because they know him.

Anna's parents. They're here? This must be more
important than he thought.

They walk up to him. "Where were
you?" they ask cheerfully.

Where was he?  What are they talking about?

"I had to run…forgot my wallet, so I
couldn't take a cab or train."

Anna's mother laughs kindly.  "Oh no."

"It happens sometimes," Anna's father
says.

"Hopefully you won't miss the
wedding," her mother jokes.

Missed? What is she talking about? What's going
on? Is the time on his phone wrong? Is he later than he thought?

"Well, she did well," her dad says.  He
points to his phone. "I got some of it on video. Her speech.  I'll email it to you."

Shit!  "What?  What time was it supposed to
start?"

"11:30," her mother says.
"Why?  What time did you think
it started?"

"12:00.  That's what I wrote on my
calendar."

Her parents look at each other and laugh a bit.
"Oops," they say in unison.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He has unrealistic hopes that Anna will equal
her parents in their casual cheerful reaction to his mistake.

When asked where she is, he's pointed in the
direction of a banquet room.

Anna's coming out as he heads in.

She looks at him with fire in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he says.

She walks away without answering.

He looks in the room. There're some people
still talking while the staff begins to clean up the room.

He then heads back to the lobby.

He watches as she hugs both her parents. When
they leave, he goes up to her.

"I'm sorry, Anna." he says.  "I had the time wrong."

"You had the time wrong," she
repeats. Then strangely, her nose starts to bleed. Not a lot…just a little at
the edge of her nostrils.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Am I okay?"  She is so not okay. She looks
homicidal.  Slowly, with menace, she
says, "Do you know how much I hate you?"

Great. He's a little late and she treats him as
if he started a genocide. "Aren't you being a bit overdramatic?"

She practically hisses at him. More blood
sneaks out of her nose.

"Your nose is bleeding."

"I don't give a fuck about my nose."
But she wipes the blood away with the back of her hand.

"I made a mistake, okay?" he
says.  "It happens."

He notices people in the lobby are beginning to
stare and this time it has nothing to do with him being sweaty from the
journey.

"It's not okay," she says.  More blood appears and she wipes it away
again. It's almost like she's crying from her nose.

She starts to walk away.

He follows and grabs her by the shoulder. She
violently pushes his hand away, walks more, and then stops. She turns to him.
"This was one of the most important days of my life. Did you know that?
No, you didn't know that. Because you don't care about anyone besides
yourself."

Whatever. Now he's tired of it all. He made a
mistake. He's sorry. She doesn't need to give him this bullshit.

She glares at him. Then her face softens. It
changes from anger to sadness.  She
sighs and quietly says,  "It
would be nice if you could give me some support sometimes. She wipes away more
blood.  Then she turns and starts
walking away.

He calls out to her. "Support?  Really, Anna?  Really?  Are you serious?  Fine!  Why don't you tell me how many of my
articles you've read? You read nothing I write. How do you think that makes me
feel?  And my novel? Remember that?
No, you probably don't. I asked you to read it and you were too goddamn
busy."

She keeps walking.

He keeps talking. "Don't you dare bitch to
me about being late to your stupid award ceremony."

People keep staring.

* * *

It takes two days for them to speak to each
other again.

Before that, Eugene began to regret his
behavior. Not being late. That was an innocent mistake. But he shouldn't have
brought up his own grievances when it was her time to act injured. He should
have just apologized and waited for forgiveness.

Eugene doesn't explain all this to Anna; nor
does he apologize.

It's more like they eventually realize it's
hard having so much tension when you're sharing a small Manhattan apartment.

At first they say things like "Excuse
me" (as they pass by each other in the kitchen) and "sorry" as
they bump into each other. Then later it's really nice things like "Do you
want me to pick up milk at the store?"

Yes, she does.

When he goes to the store that afternoon, he
remembers to get skim instead of two-percent.

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

GAINESVILLE-It's Friday,
and Jessica is happier than she's been in a long time. How could she not be?
Her friends have finally pulled through for her. Tomorrow they're going to
Atlanta!

Jessica's super
excited.

She's almost tempted to skip to work. Actually
she does skip for a few steps. She feels silly, but sometimes it's sort of nice
to feel that way.

Frankie greets her with a nod and a weak
not-quite smile when she walks into the yogurt shop.

"How're you going?" she says
cheerfully.

He's able to translate her Australian.
"I'm doing well," he says. "You?"

Before she can answer, a small crowd enters the
shop.

Some come up and stand at the counter, looking
at the choices. Others linger by the door.

A girl with curly brown hair says, "I
thought this was going to be one of those serve yourself things—you know
with tons of toppings."

One of her friends replies. "It's less
germy this way."

"I like lots of different toppings,
"the first girl says, and then asks Frankie. "Can I have more than
one topping?"

"Yes," Frankie says,
"But—"

"Do I have to pay extra for them?"
she asks.

"Yes."

The girl sighs loudly and crosses her arms over
her chest. "I hate having to pick one topping.  It's hard for me to make
decisions."

One of her friends says, "Don't be such a
Drama Queen."

The girl says, "Shut up, Bitch."

Jessica braces herself for a bad scene. But
then both girls laugh. The picky indecisive one playfully bops her friend on
the head.

Thank Goodness. Jessica and Frankie look at
each other with relief. He smiles at her and it's a much better smile than the
one he gave her when she first came into the shop.

The customers all order. The picky girl puts
herself last so she can have more time to study the toppings.

Frankie whispers to Jessica. "I have an idea.
I think it will be okay."

"Go for it," she says.

He says to the picky girl. "How about
this. We can give you a small amount of three toppings...enough to equal one
topping."

The girl jumps up and down, squealing with
delight.  "Really!  Really? You'd do that for me? I love
you!  I love you so much! Thank
you!"

Her friends laugh and in unison, some call out,
"Drama Queen!"

Still, it takes the poor girl another five
minutes to choose the three toppings.

Finally they leave.

Frankie and Jessica are alone.

"Wow," Frankie says.

"She's a character."

"You can say that again."

It's been a long time since they've had a fun
conversation like this. Jessica decides enough is enough. "I miss
you," she says.

"I'm right here." Then he says,
"No, I understand. I've missed you too."

It's crazy how you can miss someone who's with
you everyday. Now that she thinks of it—the same thing happened with
Taylor. Jessica's wonders if she's cursed.

"I didn't mean to make you feel
awkward," she says. "I was just asking you out as a friend because
I've been lonely this summer. I'm homesick.  I like you…as a friend. And I thought we
could hang out sometimes. I didn't mean to scare you or pressure you."

He looks at her with a mixture of blankness and
bewilderment.

"What?" she asks.

"I'm confused," he says. "I mean
I didn't feel scared or pressured."

Now she's the one confused. "You
didn't?"

"I liked that you asked me out. I thought
it would be fun. It's just I was busy that night."

"But then why have you been so weird with
me?"

His eyes widen in shock. "Me weird?  You're the one that got all quiet."

"No," she says. "You did."
But she's actually not quite sure.

"I thought you were disgusted with a guy
who'd rather hang out with his mother than be with someone his own age."

"What!" she says.
"No!"  She can't believe
he believed that, but looking at his face now—she can believe he believed
it. "I would never think that!"

"So you thought I was upset you asked me
to dinner?”

She nods.

"Never. I thought it was awesome."

"Then why didn't you ask me out?"

"Why didn't I ask you out?" he says;
then thinks for a bit. "I was waiting for you to ask me again."

"Why should I ask you?  I already did that." He looks lost.
"Since I asked you first and you said no, it's up to you to ask the second
time."

"Really?" he says. "Is this like
a rule?"

"Sort of."

He looks sheepish. “Sorry."

She smiles at him.

"I can be kind of dumb when it comes to
stuff like that."

"You can say that," she says as more
customers enter. These are much more straightforward than the last. The three
of them all want chocolate and vanilla swirl in waffle cones.

Frankie and Jessica work together to serve
them.

When they leave, Frankie says "Hey…so, can
I ask you out now?"

"Sure."

"How about tomorrow night?"

"Well," she says. "I can't. I'm
going with some friends to Atlanta."

"Oh!" he says. "Awesome."

"But since you asked me out and I said no,
it's up to me to ask you out the next time."

"When will that be?" he asks.

She laughs.  "I don't know."

"I'm not doing anything this
weekend," he says. "So would it be against your rules for me to
invite myself to Atlanta with you?"

"Actually, it's very much against the
rules," she says. "It's very rude of you to invite yourself
along."

"I apologize then. I'll get a hang of it
someday."

"I'd love for you to come though,"
she says. "I'll have to see if there's room in the car."

"I can drive myself," he says.

Oh yeah. She forgot he had a car.

"You can ride with me if you want,"
he says.

"Okay."  She'd kind of like that. Then again,
what if her friends are offended?

Jessica decides that's their problem. She's
still kind of annoyed with them for abandoning her these past few weeks. Though
she does forgive them, for the most part.

* * *

It actually turns out that driving with Frankie
makes things easier on her friends. That means they don't have to stop in
Gainesville to pick her up.

They plan to meet in Atlanta.

The five hour drive isn't completely
wonderful.

Frankie's driving makes her a little carsick
and terrified.

At one point, she screams.

"Are you okay?"

"It's a miracle we didn't hit that
car."

"Do you think you could do better?"
he challenges.

"Actually, I think I could. And I don't
even have a driver's license."

"And you guys drive on the wrong side of
the road."

She glares at him playfully.

"You really don't have a license?"

"I was planning to get one, but mostly I used
public transportation. Or walked."

They almost hit another car.

"I should let you get back to
driving," she says. "Concentrate."

She hears "Minnie's Yoo Hoo", coming
from her phone, and answers her FaceTime call.  It's Jesse.

"Tell your friend to stop driving like a
maniac."

"I can hear you myself," Frankie
says.

"Good. Then I'll say it to you directly.
Please be more careful with my niece."

"Your niece?"  Frankie says. Then after a moment.
"Oh, is this your EB uncle?"

"Yeah," Jessica says. "Frankie,
this is Jesse.  Jesse, this is
Frankie."

"I'm afraid we'll be meeting face to
face…ghost to ghost," Jesse says. "Really you need to be more
careful."

"I'll be more careful," he says. And
he does try…it seems. But then they have a few more near misses.  And they get lost.

It's almost 4:00 by the time they get to the
hotel.

She expects her friends to be annoyed, at
having to wait in the lobby for them, but they've been waiting for less than
five minutes. They didn't get lost too, but Nora had a hangover from the night
before, and they had a late start.

They all hug in the lobby. Well, not Frankie.
He watches. Then Jessica introduces him to her friends.  Mindy had met him before when she bought
frozen yogurt.

Jesse FaceTimes her. For the Disney trip, he
kept away, but this time it seems he wants to be included. He stays on the line
as they walk to the room and hangs out with them as they do some basic
unpacking. Jessica puts the phone down on the dresser and he entertains them
with jokes and singing.

"Hey Jesse," Melissa says. "We
love you, but we do need our privacy. I think we're going to have to have a
rule about you being in the room with us."

"Certainly," Jesse says.  "I'm a cool uncle, not a
perve.

"I love his accent," Mindy whispers
to Nora.

"And I love your accent!" Jesse says
back to her.

Mindy and Nora giggle.

Jesse says his good-byes and signs off.

"How do we know he's really gone?"
Melissa asks.

"I guess we just have to trust him,"
Jessica says.

"Do you trust him?" Mindy asks.

"For the most part."

"I bet he'll see us naked," Nora
says.

"I think you want him to see you
naked," Mindy says. Nora doesn't deny it, and they all laugh.

"Think about how many EB people have seen
us naked through the years," Nora says.

"It's scary," Melissa says, looking a
bit disturbed by it all.

"It turns me on a bit," Nora says,
and then calls out to the room. "Any ghosts in here? Want to see me
naked?" She lifts up her shirt and flashes (at least the living) with her
bra.

"Let's get going," Melissa says.
"We need to do the Coke thing.

* * *

The World of Coke is amazing. At least Jessica
and Frankie think so. Nora finds it boring. Melissa says it's an overpriced
tourist trap. It turns out Mindy doesn't like soft drinks.

They watch an adorable short film about polar
bears using Skype to talk to their OS relatives while drinking bottles of coke.
One polar bear's embarrassed because her dead friend’s a penguin rather than a
polar bear. The other bears make fun of her, but in the end they all realize
it's okay to have a penguin friend.

When the lights come on, she sees Frankie has a
little redness in his eyes.

"Are you crying?" she asks.

"Of course not."  But his voice is a bit husky.

She can't help but laugh at him. Though she
can't blame him. The film was very touching.

After the film, They walk around the museum. They look at an
exhibit where various OS and EB
people come on a computer screen and talk about their favorite Coke
memories. They also answer questions from the living audience. Some of the
living people are extremely excited about the exhibit. Jessica realizes then
that some people don't have the frequent contact with ghosts like she does.
Still, it's actually fun for her too. Though her favorite thing is definitely
the free soft drinks. Jessica, her friends, and a crowd of strangers swarm the
room, tasting soda samples from around the world.

The only problem with drinking a lot of soft
drinks is her bladder goes into hyperactive mode. She pees before they leave.
Then on the drive back to the hotel, she has to pee again. The problem is all
three of her friends have to pee as well. They fight over who gets to go first.
Jessica doesn't win.

She decides to see if she can borrow Frankie's
toilet.

Yes, he says she can. After he uses it. Again.

He pees.

She pees.

They sit on the edges of the beds and talk.

Then she pees again and he pees after.

They go on and on like this until there's a
knock at the door.

It's Melissa. She's carrying Jessica's mobile.
"You left this in the room."
Yeah, Jessica actually hadn't expected to be with Frankie that long.
"Jesse's been trying to call you."

* * *

She calls Jesse, from her own room after
telling Frankie they'll meet him a little bit later for dinner.

"You know where I've been," Jesse
says.

"No. Where?"

"I went to see Taylor," he says.

"Oh!" She totally forgot that Taylor
lives in Atlanta. "Did you talk to her?"

"No, I just observed."

"You mean you spied on her."

"Call it what you want." Jesse says.
He sounds more serious than he usually does.

"Okay."

"I think you should go see her,"
Jesse says. "I'm worried about her."

She thinks it's actually sweet that Jesse
visited Taylor and that he's worried.
But…no…she doesn't want to see Taylor. She can't help but feel doing so
would ruin the whole trip.

"Please," Jesse says.

"I'm here with my friends. This is
supposed to be fun."

"Taylor's your friend."

Now Jessica's annoyed. "She's not my
friend. And it's really none of your business." She hates that she's being
nasty. Leave it to Taylor to cause the first rift between her and her
uncle.

Jesse ignores her nastiness. "She was your
friend and she's still your roommate."

"Well, I'm actually thinking of moving
back on campus." She says it like she's been thinking about it for awhile,
but the idea just popped into her head at this moment.

"Jessica, please do this.  For me?"

She doesn't answer. She doesn't want to.

"Remember how you felt when you thought
your friends abandoned you?"

This works against her. He's won. She sighs.
"Fine. I'll ask Frankie to drive me over there."

Jesse groans. "Oh great. Now you're likely
to be visiting Taylor as a ghost."

* * *

She calls Taylor, tells her ex-friend she's in
town, and asks if she can come over.

She expects Taylor to reject her and the whole
thing can be over.

That doesn't happen. Taylor says she wants to
get together and yes, she's fine with Jessica coming late.  She understands that Jessica and her
friends still have to eat dinner.

While eating her burrito, Jessica wonders if
she should have invited Taylor to dinner.

No,
it's better she meet with her alone.

She hopes it's not a long visit.

* * *

Frankie drops her off at Taylor's enormous,
posh house around 10:00. "Call me when you're ready to leave."

"It shouldn't be too long, "she says,
dreading it. Though maybe it will be fun to see the inside of such a posh
house. Does this count as a mansion?

"She rings the doorbell, hoping Taylor's
right about her parents not minding her visiting so late.

Taylor's dad answers the door.  She met him once before when they came
to visit. "Jessica!
Our favorite Aussie! It's so wonderful to see you again!" He mispronounces
Aussie, but that's okay. "How have you been?"

She chats politely with him for a moment.

Then he calls upstairs to Taylor.

She comes down with her Kermit the frog legs,
wearing her trademark gym clothes. She's lost more weight.

"Hi," she says, rather shyly. Jessica
actually feels a bit shy herself.

"I'm sure you two have a lot to talk
about," Taylor's dad says. "I'll let you get to it."

They stand there quietly near the stairs.

Jessica breaks the silence. "Your dad's
very nice."

"Yeah," Taylor says.
"Thanks."

"So…."

They both stand there.  This is such a mistake. Jessica wants to
kill her uncle.

"Do you mind if we talk upstairs? I was
sort of in the middle of doing the treadmill."

Oh, so now she doesn't have to pace. She has a
treadmill. Jessica thinks it's a bit rude and pathetic to exercise while a
friend’s visiting, but oh well.
"Sure," she says.  She follows Taylor upstairs and sits on
the edge of Taylor's bed, while Taylor steps on to the treadmill.

She walks. Jessica watches. When can she leave?
This is so boring; and it's a waste of time.

Then Taylor starts running.

"You're really into that," Jessica
says.

"I guess so," Taylor says. Then she
runs even faster. She also increases the incline. "How was the coke
thing?" She's out of breath.

"Fine." Jessica says.  Is she really expected to have a
conversation like this?

"Good," Taylor says. Panting, she
says. "How are things going?"

"They're fine.  I've been—"

Taylor increases the speed again. Is she even
listening?

Jessica can't take it anymore. She stands up.
"Look, I'm leaving."

"What?" Taylor says, and then
stumbles backwards. The treadmill stops automatically as Taylor falls off.

"Oh my God!" Jessica goes to her
ex-friend on the ground. "Are you okay?"

Taylor starts giggling. She's fine.

"You didn't break anything?"  Jessica says. She takes Taylor's hand
and pulls her up.

"Sorry about that," Taylor says. Then
she climbs back up on the treadmill.

"No!" This has gone way too far. She
pulls Taylor off the treadmill and forces her to sit on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Taylor says,
sort of protesting.  Though she
doesn't offer much resistance.

"You are going to be a normal person for
five minutes and have a normal conversation with me," Jessica says.

Then Taylor starts to cry. Jessica's not sure
why her ex-friend is crying, but now she's started to cry as well. The both of them sit
there crying together.

"I'm sorry I'm not normal," Taylor
says in a teary voice.

"Taylor, I'm sorry I said that. Normal is
a stupid word. But you know…." She tries to find the right words.  She can't. "You're just really
fucked in the head lately.  I miss
the old you."  She decides then
that she really does. She likes Nora, Mindy, and Melissa. Sure. But she likes
all three of them less than she liked the old Taylor.

"I am
really fucked," Taylor says. She laughs a bit through her tears.

"What happened to you?" Jessica asks.

"I don't know," Taylor says. "I
wanted to lose some weight."

"Well, you lost plenty."

"My parents are proud of me."

"They shouldn't be," Jessica says.
"It can be dangerous to lose that much weight. You know, people die from
it."

"I do still eat," she says. "I
mean I'm not totally starving myself."

"So you're just sort of starving
yourself?"

"No.
I really do eat.  Today I had
900 calories."

Jessica sighs.  "I'm not an expert on any of this,
but I'm fairly sure you're supposed to eat more than that—especially if
you exercise all day."

"I know," Taylor says. "I'm just
afraid I'll get fat if I stop."

Jessica doesn't know how to respond.

Taylor continues. "Sometime I'll go off my
diet. I don't weigh my food. I eat what I want to eat."

"That's good!" Jessica says.

"No," Taylor says. "It's not.
It's like I lose all control. I eat so much. It's disgusting. Like one day, I
ate a whole boxes of Girl Scout cookies."

"So, you're bulimic?"

Taylor shakes her head. "No, I don't throw
up. I just exercise more. One time, I stayed up all night exercising."

"That's not good," Jessica says.

"I still gained weight that day."

"And your parents are proud of all
this?"

"Yes, they think I have excellent
willpower, and they're so proud of me for exercising so much."

Oh…goodness. "I think you might need some
help," Jessica tries to be gentle.

"I really don't think I have an eating
disorder or anything like that."

"I think you might."

"No, I checked the symptoms of anorexia;
you know, because I was a little worried. You lose your period. I haven't. And
I haven't lost the right amount of weight yet." She lifts her arm up for
Jessica to see.  "Anorexic
people also have weird hair growing on their body. I don't."

"Well, as I said. I'm not an expert on any
of this. Maybe you don't have an eating disorder.  I don't know," she says. "But
I'm worried about you. And I miss the old you." Taylor bursts into tears
again. Jessica puts her arm around her friend and pulls her close. "At
least try eating a little more. Okay? And you can exercise, but do stop once in
awhile."

Taylor nods.

"I won't insist you get help. That's your
business. For now. But I am going to talk to you a lot. I'm going to make sure you're
not going crazy with the exercising. And the dieting."

"Okay."

"And don't think you can lie to me,"
Jessica says. "I'm going to send Jesse over to spy on you."

"Is he the one that told you to visit
me?"

Jessica considers lying, but then decides to be
honest.  She expects Taylor to
be offended, but she's not.

"Tell
him thanks for me," she says. "It was really sweet of him. He's a
nice guy."

They talk more...for a long time. About other
things. Fun stuff. They reminisce about their favorite Offspring moments, gossip about Taylor's hot celebrity
brother-in-law, and Jessica tells her about Frankie.

"So is he a friend or more than a
friend?" Taylor asks.

"Definitely just a friend," Jessica
says. "I'm not attracted to him. At all.

But when she's in the car with him, on the way
back to the hotel, she starts to wonder if the answer she gave Jessica is the
truth.

Chapter
Twenty-Nine

SAN FRANCISCO-Dennis
walks a customer to the gluten free aisle. She thanks him. He smiles and goes
back to the counter.

He takes out the novel he's been reading lately
and gets back into it—Jennie by
Douglas Preston, about a chimpanzee living with a human family. The book
engages him, though some events in the story make him melancholy. It feels nice
to get into a book, forget his own life for a moment. He's read a lot since
giving up his television, but until Jennie,
he couldn't manage to truly get into the novels. He dwelled on the surface of
the stories, and even worse, sometimes he'd read a string of words and they
wouldn't translate into images or ideas. Dennis hates when that happens.

Things are better now. He likes his book.

He helped two
customers today without feeling hateful towards them; nor did he see their
needs as complete nonsense. It's also his third day in a row of coming into
work. He's embarrassed by the amount he's missed lately. Abby has been kind
enough to take over for him. As a thank you, he sent her away for a short
holiday.

He'll work three more days; then he's going to
take a break.

On his day off, he plans to work on the garden.
Nancy used to take care of that, but since her death, it's gone to weed. He
needs to fix that.

He
also purchased some how-to-draw books. He's getting good at drawing Mickey
Mouse and Winnie-the-Pooh. When he gets even better, he’ll send some drawings
off to his granddaughter. She'll probably appreciate that.

Three middle-aged women enter the store. He
looks up from his book and gives a small nod. He hopes they've noticed the no
cell phone sign on the window and he won't have to say anything to them. At
this point, they seem immersed in their conversation with each other.

Are they arguing?

Dennis decides it’s not his business. He goes
back to his book. He
slowly reads a page; then realizes he didn't absorb any of it.

He tries again. He tries to block out the women's
conversation, but words slip in—death, Jesus, delusional, change, give it
up, Bible, clinging.

Two of the women pick on the other woman who
sounds very agitated.

He'll probably need to put up another sign in
the store—No Arguing or Fighting Here

He tries again to ignore the women and he tries
to gets back into the book.

It seems to be impossible.

He then tries to just sit there, not reading,
but also not listening.

It's not working.

The woman wants to continue to believe in her
Christianity. She believes the Bible is true, and she still believes in heaven
and hell.

Her friends say she's delusional and that it's
been proven Christianity's wrong.

"It's time to move on," one of the
women says in a strict and condescending tone.

"I have faith," the Christian says
stubbornly. "You can't take that away from me."

"You're pathetic," one of the other
women says. Then she and the second women walk away, leaving the Christian
behind.

Dennis hates that he's heard the
conversation.

He should probably turn his business into a
mail-order one so he doesn't have to deal with all this.

Soon, two of the women leave. The Christian
stays behind. Alone, she's quiet. Dennis reads, and this time manages to get
back into the story.

When the woman finishes shopping and comes to
the counter, she asks. "Are you a Christian?"

What business is it of hers? Is she
going to try to convert him? She's annoying. But for some reason, he's more
embarrassed for her than angry.
"No," he says simply, and continues ringing up her
items.

"Were you a Christian before all of this
happened?"

"No," he says.

Neither of them says anything.

He finishes ringing her up and watches as she
slides her credit card across the scanner.

Then his mouth speaks without his brain's
explicit permission. "I'm an atheist." He didn't mean to do it, and he dreads
the consequences.

He expects to get one of those flimsy mini
books with pictures of Satan and people burning in hell.

Instead she laughs. "Really! Oh no. And I
thought I had it bad. I imagine things are even worse for you." She shakes
her head in sympathy.

She takes her bags and starts to walk towards
the door. Then she stops and turns around. She looks Dennis in the eye and
says, "Hey…try to stay strong."

"I will," he says quietly. Then when
she's gone, he says, "Thank you."

Chapter
Thirty

OAHU
Christina sits on the couch with her legs crossed. Her opened laptop sits
beside her, facing Kayla who’s dancing.
She and Albert watch their daughter together. He also watches Lenora.
She dances too, but Christina can't see her right now.

The four of them have been spending a lot of
time together this past week and a half. Lenora still visits her mother, but
Christina imagines it's hard on her. Who wants to spend time somewhere they're
not welcomed?

Usually, Lenora stays with them.

Albert hasn't left their side since she's told
him about the stinky spirit.

Fortunately, Smelly's
visits are less frequent than Lenora's. They're still not sure if he's
dangerous or a benign nuisance. For Christina, it's hardly even a nuisance,
because she can't smell him.

Once Christina asked Albert what he looked
like.

"It's hard to explain. It's like he's
clouded in darkness. Not really black. More like a dark grey. You can hardly
see his face, because it's…I don't know how to explain it. Shadowed, maybe? But
sometimes you get glimpses, and he looks a little bit like Alfred E Neuman.  Remember from Mad Magazine?"

Yes! She remembers.  She and her sisters used to love that
magazine. Her dad loved it too.

Kayla had overheard their conversation.
"Who's Alfred E. Neuman?"

They found a picture of him online and showed
it to Kayla.

Kayla reported to Christina that Lenora was
looking at the picture as well. "We both think the smelly thing is uglier
than that guy."

Albert had agreed with them.

Kayla stops dancing. Christina and her
husband applaud.

"Lenora wants to dance for Mommy
now."

Okay," Christina says.

She looks at the computer screen. Albert
disappears and Lenora takes his place. As of yet, they haven't figured out how
to have both of them on the screen at once. They're not sure if it's impossible
in general, or if they're just slightly incompetent when it comes to all this.

Lenora dances. She's a cute child, but in a
rough dirty type of way, like one of the orphans in Oliver or Annie. Her
clothes look like they should be rags. Her hair looks like it hasn't been
brushed in…forever.

Do spirits brush their hair?

For the most part, Lenora’s a sweet child.
Maybe she's not the smartest. She's immature. She died when she was ten, but
she looks and acts younger than Kayla.

She's also not the best dancer, though she's
very entertaining.

"That's brilliant!" Christina says
when Lenora stops.

Lenora gives a small nod; doesn't thank
Christina for the compliment. Then she vanishes from the screen. Albert
returns.

"Yes, I liked it too," Albert says, presumably to Lenora.

* * *

Albert and the girls wander around the shop
while Christina manages the register and talks to customers.

She hears Kayla running and laughing while she
rings up a young man. He smiles as Kayla runs past.

"So, is your daughter very imaginative, or
is she talking to an EB?" he asks. It's rare for a customer to take
interest in Kayla.  Usually they
ignore her, give her exasperated looks, or provide a simple, “cute kid."
The guy seems nice, so she doesn't mind answering the question.

"EB," she says.

"I heard her talking to them before. It
almost sounded like she could hear them answer back. I mean without a phone or
anything."

Should she be honest? Yes. She decides it can't
hurt.

"She's a medium."

"That's
great," he says. It still feels strange to have someone so readily believe
her about all that. "I bet you feel vindicated. Did no one believe you
before?"

"Sometimes I didn't believe it."

"My brother's a medium," he says.
"I believed it. My parents didn't. They thought he was lying and that we were
both trying to get attention."

Christina feels compelled to distinguish
herself from his parents. "I wasn't sure, but I did try to keep an
open-mind. I didn't accuse of her of lying."

"Good," he says. "I bet you're a
good mom."

Christina
smiles. "Thanks. I have a good daughter."

"Who I imagine is rarely lonely."

She laughs. "That's for sure.”

She finishes ringing him up. He pays and she
watches him walk out the door.

Then she notices the laughter and running
has stopped. She calls out, loudly "How are things going?"

"Lenora's upset," Kayla calls back.

"Why?" Christina yells.

Kayla walks over to the counter, which is good.
Christina imagines she'll end up losing her voice if they go on yelling like
this.

"Why's Lenora upset?" Christina asks.

Kayla sighs. "You know. Lenora is being
Lenora. She gets upset. I can't always know the reason."

"You're right," Christina says.
Lenora has her moods. She's happy and sweet sometimes; then other times she's
not. She gets upset, often about food. But sometimes they can't decipher the
reason.

"Is she wanting something to eat?"

"Probably, but you can't feed her.
Remember?"

"I know.  Sometimes we can't fix problems for
people, but we can help them by listening and understanding.

Her wise words are lost on her daughter who
skips away.

* * *

Christina locks the door after her last
customer leaves. Now it's time to clean.

She predicts she'll have to do it on her
own—no help from her husband or pseudo-foster child. Maybe Kayla will
help?

She asks; then adds, "we'll get out of
here faster."

"I don't need to get out faster,"
Kayla says. "I like it here just fine." She stops, listens, and then
pouts.  "Fine.  I'll help."

"Thanks, Albert," Christina says to
the air. She tries to imagine the future. What will be it like co-parenting a
teenager with a spirit?

She sends Kayla around to pick up anything
that's fallen, and to also do some basic straightening.

While Kayla does that, Christina mops.

She stops when she gets a text.

It's from Albert. You need to hire more help
Why not get more employees?

She texts back. Why? Do you have a problem with child labor?

No.  You're right.  Make that kid earn her keep.

She
laughs.

He
texts, Though she's playing more than
she's cleaning.

Christina yells out. "Kayla!  Clean!"

Kayla groans angrily. "Daddy, you're such
a tattle-tale."

Thanks
for getting me into trouble, he
texts.

She thinks about what he said. Does she need to
hire more people? Maybe? As things are right now, she's often working at the
store on her own. Her three employees cover the store so she can get a break
on  weekends. Sometimes her time in
the store overlaps with her employees, and she does enjoy that. But she sort of
prefers being on her own. Well, not on her own, but just with Albert, Kayla,
and…Lenora.

The store doesn't get a huge amount of
business, so it's rare for her to feel stretched in a thousand directions.  In a way, she prefers to be on her own.
Maybe more so now than in the past. If she has another adult here—another
living adult, she'll have to find someone who can be understanding about Kayla.
She has her doubts about that being easy.

No, the more she thinks about it, the more she
feels things are fine the way they are.

Then suddenly, they're not fine.

She feels very dizzy.

She clings to the mop bucket and tries to
balance herself.

It doesn't help.

She needs to sit, but can't imagine she'll make
it to the chair behind the register.

So she sits right there on the wet floor.

She hears Kayla laughing a few aisles down, and
feels angry with her daughter for being happy when she herself feels like shit.

The dizziness isn't going away.

She puts her head between her hands.

Then Kayla starts singing.

Christina hates the song.  She hates that Kayla's singing it.  And she doesn't understand why her
daughter has to be such a spoiled brat. It's likely her husband's fault.  He follows the kid around and gives into
her every whim. They play good cop/bad cop.  What use is Albert to her?  Really. He hangs around and plays daddy.
But is he playing husband?  No. If
he got out of their life, she could actually move on and meet someone new.

He ruined her life and she's supposed to sit
there pretending to be happy he's still around.

The sad truth is—She didn't even love him
when he was alive. He was boring, gullible, and lazy.

She hears her text alert.  She's not going to get it.

What's he going to do? Lecture her again on
parenting?  She knows that's what he
was doing before, in his usual pathetic passive-aggressive way.
God-fucking-forbid she ask Kayla to do a few chores.

She hears another text alert.

"Go away!" she yells.

Then she starts to sob.

She feels so sick. Her life is sick. Her life
is a waste.

She hears footsteps and ignores them.

Then she hears crying, besides her own.

She looks up and Kayla's standing there, crying
hysterically.

"Go away!"  Kayla screams.

Christina wishes she'd disappear along with her
father.

"Daddy, make it go away!"

"I hate you," Christina says to
Kayla. Then everything goes dark.

* * *

She wakes up with a small herbal pillow under
her head, so she's cushioned from the hardness of the damp floor. Still, she's
tormented by a headache.

She sees Albert staring back at her,
concerned.  He's on her cell phone
which is propped up against a box of energy bars.

She looks around, and then up, to see Kayla a
few feet away. Tears stain her daughter's face.

"Mommy, do you hate me?"

"Of course not. I love you more than the
universe. You know that." But then she remembers. Vaguely, but she gets
the general idea. She remembers feeling a lot of hate...for her husband and her
daughter.

How could that be? It makes no sense to her.

But she's a smart woman. She can connect the
dots." I was possessed, wasn't I?"

Kayla nods and starts crying hysterically. Her
body quivers with sobs.

Christina starts pulling herself up. She needs
to get to her daughter.

"Take it slowly," Albert says.

She ignores his advice and sits up. She doesn't
stand though. Still sitting, she edges over to her daughter.

Kayla backs up, terrified.

"Kayla, I think Mommy's okay now,"
Albert says.

He thinks?
He doesn't know for sure? And what if his ambivalence has merit?  Is she okay? How can she know? She bursts into
tears. What if it happens again and she hurts Kayla?

"I hate it," Kayla says.

"Me too," Christina says. It's not
okay to hate your adorable daughter or your wonderful husband, but it's
perfectly all right to despise an evil spirit who attacks you and your
family.

* * *

Kayla's body stiffens when Christina tries to
kiss her good-night. It breaks Christina’s heart.

"I'm sorry," Christina says.

"I'm sorry too," Kayla says. "I
know it's not your fault.  It's
just...." Tears again. She wipes them away.

"I understand," Christina says.

"I love you, though," Kayla says.

Christina finds it hard to reply without
bursting into sobs. She pulls herself together. "I love you
too."  She blows her daughter a
kiss and gets one in return. Then she walks out the door.

When she's walking down the hall, she hears her
daughter's footsteps. Then she hears the click of the lock. They have a rule
about Kayla locking the door, but it's not one they've had to forcibly enforce.

She's not going to fight it now. Though it
worries her. What if there's an emergency? What if Christina needs to get in?
What if there's a fire?

But the sad truth is, right now, she might be
the biggest threat.

She walks to her own room.

She opens her laptop and contacts Albert.

His face shows the despair she's feeling.

"I don't know what to do," he says.
"I couldn't fight it."

"So why…how did it leave?"

"I don't know. I guess it just had
enough."

"For now."

Albert nods with a pained look.

"So what?  Did I have Alfred E. Neuman's face?" Neither of them laughs at her poor
attempt at a joke.

"No…it was just a darkness surrounding
you. Like a dark slimy smoke. And the smell was there.  Then you collapsed. A few moments after
that, we saw it step out of you. Then we saw Alfred E. Neuman."

"So he didn't stick around for me being
unconscious."

"No, I guess not."

"So maybe that's the way to stop the
possession."

"Go unconscious?  So if this happens to you again. Or if
it happens to Kayla. You should hit each other on the head with a bat?"

"That's not funny," she says, but she
does actually laugh a little. Maybe a nervous giggle.

"Seriously though," Albert says.
"I think it's more like it overpowers you and causes you to go unconscious.
Then he's forced out? Or maybe he chooses to leave."

"I don't know," Christina says.

"I don't know either."

Then she asks. "Are we alone right
now?"

"Yes," he says.

She takes a deep breath. "If we never met
Lenora, we wouldn't have all this."

"I know," he says.  "But...."

"I'm sorry. It's not her fault.  It's just—"

"Don't worry," he says.  "I understand."

"I'm glad you understand," she gives
him a wry smile. "But it's kind of ridiculous to tell me not to worry at
this point."

"I know. I'm worried too. I feel so
helpless."

It's comforting, in some ways, to hear his
voice, but she wishes she could feel him. She wishes she could feel the comfort
of his arms. She wishes she could rest her head against his chest. They use to
have this pattern where she'd rest her head on his chest; he'd stroke her arm,
then after awhile, she'd move to where they were facing each other. Then they'd
kiss.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too."

She closes her eyes as if to go to sleep, but
sleep doesn't find her until hours later.

* * *

For the next two days, they have no visits from
the malevolent spirit, but Christina can't enjoy his absence. She's too worried
about his return.

At work, she's distracted. Albert had suggested
she ask one of the employees to come in. That was a good idea that didn't work
out. Celia's sick. Natalie has classes. Scott has surfing plans and no, he's
not willing to change his plans.

Albert then suggested keeping the shop closed
and in the meantime, think again about hiring more help.  She considers taking his advice, but
then remembers she's expecting some deliveries. Plus, she doesn't like the idea
of giving up and hiding from the world.

At the store, Christina isn't rude to customers
or short with them. She's friendly, just not as welcoming. Usually her demeanor
says: Talk to me!  Open up to me!
Tell me what you think. I'm here not just to sell you things, but to be your
guide and friend!

Now it's more like: Thanks for shopping here.
Have a nice day. Best be on your way.

She
hopes she's not offending anyone or hurting anyone's feelings.

After they close the shop, Christina has an
idea that makes her feel slightly better. She'll buy a lock and put it on the
outside of her bedroom door. Then if she gets possessed again, Kayla can lock
her in the bedroom and be safe…from her own mother.

When they get to the hardware store, she has no
idea what type of lock to buy. Kayla walks quietly behind her as they go
through the aisles.  She's not been
her happy talkative self lately.

Christina hears her text alert. She takes her
phone out of her purse and looks.

It's from Albert. What are we doing here?

She
imagines he'll marvel at her brilliance. Buying
a lock for my bedroom door. Kayla can lock me in if needed.

You
mean if you're possessed again?

Yes!

How
is she going to get you into your bedroom?

Thanks,
husband for making me feel ridiculous. Oh, but it's not his fault.  It's her. Why isn't she thinking
clearly?

They leave.

On the drive home, she thinks about something
to make her feel worse. What if the spirit possesses Kayla instead?  Then, what if the Kayla/Evil Spirit
combo locks Christina in the bedroom so it can do evil horrible things to Kayla?

* * *

Later that evening, Christina's cooks dinner
while Kayla watches cartoons on the DVR with her invisible father and new best
friend (who brought all the troubles into their lives). As she's putting more
soap on the sponge, she suddenly feels dizzy.

No...no...no...no!

Stay steady, she tells herself.  Fight it. And most importantly—
get Kayla safe.

"Kayla," she tries to use a voice
that will not scar her daughter for life. "Go to your room now and lock
the door. Do not come out until Daddy tells you it's okay."

She's disturbed by Kayla's lack of reaction.
She doesn't run. She pauses the TV and looks at Christina. "What's wrong?

"It's happening again."

"No, it's not," Kayla
says.

"Kayla!  Listen to me! Go to your room.
Now!"  But now that she thinks
of it…the dizziness isn't getting worse. In fact, it's gone.

She hears her phone ring. It's Albert on
FaceTime.

She answers.

Albert says. "Sweetie, the spirit's not
here."

Oh well. Yeah. She forgot. They can actually
see and smell it.

"Are you sure?" she says.

"Unless it's found a way to go invisible.
Did you feel something?"

"I was dizzy for a second."

"Are you okay now?"

She bursts into tears.

"It might be the stress."

She nods.

"You know," he says.  "I've been thinking we should get
some outside help."

"Like an exorcist?"

"Maybe," he says. "And we'll
definitely do that if we get to the point where your head is spinning."

"It's not funny," she says, though
she actually laughs a little bit—a nervous giggle to go with the tears.

"I was thinking more like one of your
sisters. Or your mom? Or all of them. They're OS. They might have access to
information I don't have.  Actually,
I'm almost sure of it."

Christina feels a huge weight lifted from her.
His idea's brilliant. Why didn't she think of it? Besides, she misses her
family. It's been awhile since she's talked to them. It's really ridiculous
that they don't make the effort to talk to each other more often.

"Are you okay with that?" he says.

She nods. "So you'll get them for
me?"

"No. You call them. I don't think I can
contact OS people. I can only talk to them if I'm here and you have them on
video chat."

"Oh." Christina tries to remember if
she already knew that or not.  Her
brain’s probably fried from the possession.

* * *

She chooses to FaceTime Molly since Molly's her
twin. It seems it's the right thing to do.

It's strange seeing Molly via FaceTime. It's
like looking at a mirror, and seeing herself ten years younger.

She tells her sister the whole story. Molly's
very concerned and empathetic.
She's also apologetic about not communicating more. "It's just so
nice here," she says. "You know?
It's kind of like when Mom took us on that cruise and we felt so
wonderfully disconnected from the real world.  It would be like us taking time out of
the cruise to call our friends back home. Or Dad. We love him and we love our
friends.  Right?  But you kind of want to be away from all
that."

Christina does remember the cruise, and she can
relate to what Molly's saying. Still, she can't resist the urge to give her
sister a hard time. "So it's like right now I'm taking you away from your
fabulous vacation."

"Sort of.  Yeah.  But that's okay because you're my twinnie and I'll always love you."

"Twinnie?"
Oh dear. When was the last time they used that word?

"Maybe I should just put rocks in my
pocket, jump in the ocean, and join you." Christina's
joking…for the most part.

Molly smiles. "Yeah.  Probably not a good idea.  I think suicide gets you a
demerit."

"And what does that do?"

"I don't know. You get a spanking, or
something?" She then stops and listens to someone else in the room,
someone that Christina can't hear. She figures Albert is talking to her.

Christina can't hear Albert, but she can hear
Molly talking to him. "Yes.  I
think I know people I can ask.  I'll
get it figured out and I'll get back to you soon. Don't worry. Oh well. I mean
don't worry as much as you're worrying now. Maybe worry a little less?

They chat a little more; then say their
goodbyes.

* * *

Christina expects it to take days for her
sister to do the research and get back to her. She's very surprised when her
sister FaceTimes her that evening, shortly after she's put Kayla to bed.

"Sit down," Molly says. "This is
all a bit complicated."

Christina is already sitting on the couch which
she knows Molly can see from the screen.

"Okay. Yeah. You're already sitting.
That's just what people say when there's big news, so I thought I should say
it."

"So, is there a way to fight off the
possession?" Christina's hopeful that the news isn't horrible. Molly
doesn't look devastated.

"Well, first of all. You weren't exactly
possessed."

"What?  Yes, I was. What do you mean?"

"No.
Well, kind of. Sort of... see...I described the whole thing to them, and
they explained that it's kind of something else."

"What is it?"

"If you were possessed, you wouldn't
remember any of it. Your soul would be…uh dormant?  Kind of asleep. But you remember stuff,
right? You felt like you were there for the whole thing."

Christina nods.

"So what it is…" Molly pauses.
"Let me get it straight in my own head first. Give me a minute."

"Okay." Christina waits.

"I hope I can explain it."

"Do your best," Christina says,
trying not to act impatient.

"So…there's a darkness.  Like a dark force thing.  We all have it. Everyone. But if you're
a good person, you have a really tiny amount. You and I are really good, so we
probably have a microscopic bit."

Christina continues to listen.

"The smelly thing is not exactly a spirit.
Well, it is a spirit, but it's also a manifestation of the dark force thing.
When it goes inside you, it makes your own dark force thing get much bigger.
Any bad feelings you have will grow. They'll get huge."

Christina shakes her head.  It can't be right.  She can buy the fact that she has a
darkness in her. She can accept she has negative thoughts.  But…. "No," she says. "I
don't hate Albert or Kayla.  At
all."

Molly sighs. "They told me it might be
hard for you to accept. The thing they told me to tell you is
that we all—everyone— has a small bit of hate towards everyone we
love. That's where we get the saying, there's a small line between love and
hate." She smiles. "That's kind of cool.  Right?"

Christina's head is spinning.

Molly gets quiet, apparently listening to
Albert again. "They
don't really have any great advice," she says. "Unfortunately. They
said you could try happy thoughts." She laughs. "Yeah. Like Peter
Pan."

Molly gets back to Christina. "If the dark
force thing goes inside you, it might help if the people around give you lots
of love...think positive thoughts. All that stuff. And worse comes to worse,
you just wait for it to go away."

"But what if it doesn't go away?"
Christina's embarrassed to find herself whining.

"It will."  Molly says. "I forgot to tell you.
The good news. The other thing they said is that if you're feeling dizzy,
that's a very good thing. It means your body…and your spirit
are trying to fight it. The dark force thing—the one plaguing you
is really not that strong.  It has a
very low tolerance."

Now Christina feels a bit better.

Molly listens to Albert again and some of her
cheerfulness is wiped from her face. "Well, yeah.  It can get stronger. And there are worse
things out there.  So, be careful.
She pastes on a wide smile. "And we'll all just hope for the best."

July

Chapter
Thirty-One

ATLANTA-In the
morning, Jennifer looks in her closet for something to wear to tomorrow's 4th
of July picnic.  She'll definitely wear
red or blue. Patriotism's important to Philip...and to her as well.

That being said, she has only one truly
patriotic outfit and she wore it to last years picnic. She probably should have
gone out to buy something new.

Of course, she could just wear the same outfit
again. The rule that you have to wear something new each year isn't gospel. It
might be a good image thing for the employees. Look how the head of the
company's wife isn't wasteful.  She
doesn't buy a dress to wear only once.

Jennifer takes off her pajamas and puts on the
dress. It's blue and white striped with a red ribbon belt and red accents.

She looks for a stain because if there is one,
she can't wear it.

There's no stain. It still fits. It doesn't
make her look awful, but it's not the most flattering.

It shows off her arms which are flabby, and
hides her legs which are somewhat in shape. (Compared to Taylor's legs though,
they look like elephants)

She doesn't like the dress. She's tempted to go
out and buy something new.

Should she?

Yes, maybe she should.

What's the point of being a president’s wife if
you end up wearing the same ugly dress twice to the same party?

* * *

Jennifer eats lunch at home before leaving. She
has a low-calorie frozen meal. It's probably asking too much to lose weight
before today's shopping trip and tomorrow's picnic, but you never know. And at
the least, she'd like to not gain weight.

As she eats, she texts Trisha to tell her she's
going shopping to buy a new dress.

Good!  You should treat yourself more often!
Though I saw you in your other dress. You looked fantastic in that.

Jennifer loves having Trisha around. Thank you! She texts back.

I'll come with and help you find something if you want.

Sure!
That would be great!

Taylor comes into the kitchen and gives
Jennifer a small wave.  Jennifer
puts her phone away.

Taylor looks tired.

"Have you been exercising?"  Jennifer asks.

"No, I just woke up, actually."
Taylor yawns.

That's unusual. Taylor usually wakes up before
seven so she can start her treadmill work. "Are you feeling
okay?"  Jennifer asks.

"Yeah."

Out of feelings of obligation, Jennifer says.
"I'm going shopping after this. Do you want to come with me?"

Taylor sits down and stretches. She yawns
again. "No, thank you. I think I'm going to just hang out here today. Is
that okay?"

Jennifer's relieved. It's not that she doesn't
love her daughter. It's just she's already made plans with Trisha, and if
Taylor comes along, Jennifer won't be able to talk to Trisha.

"You're going to the picnic tomorrow,
right?"  Jennifer asks Taylor.

"Do I have to?" Taylor asks with a
wry smile.

"It's important to your father,"
Jennifer says. "And he does a lot for you."

"I know." Taylor says.  "I'll be there." She gets up
and grabs a bowl. She puts some bran cereal in it; then adds a handful of fresh
blueberries.

She sits back down and starts eating.

Jennifer goes back to eating her diet meal.

Neither of them talks and the silence makes
Jennifer uncomfortable. Then she realizes something. "Hey, you didn't use
your food scale!"

Jennifer thinks she's doing good by being
observant, but she's seems to have made Taylor uncomfortable. Her daughter
gives a small shoulder shrug.

"Did you forget?"  Jennifer asks

"No," Taylor says. "It's just I
started thinking maybe I'm being a bit messed up about eating and all
that.  Kind of obsessive? I'm trying
to manage without it."

"Do you think you'll be able to keep up
with your diet without it?"

"I don't really need to lose more
weight," Taylor says.

Jennifer looks her daughter up and down. Yeah.
She definitely doesn’t need to lose any more weight.  She's fine the way she is. "Yeah. I
think you're perfect the way you are. I was just wondering if you plan to try
to maintain that weight."

"I'm actually four pounds
underweight," Taylor says

"According to who?" Jennifer asks.

"The BMI chart."

People get too rigid about those things.
"You can't take the chart as gospel. It's not always right."

Taylor nods. She doesn't look too happy. What's
put her in such a mood? Well...probably just the age. It comes with the
territory.

"I think you're beautiful the way you
are,"  Jennifer says. "You
should trust your mother's opinion more than a chart." She meant it as s
sort of joke, but Taylor doesn't laugh. Instead her eyes fill with tears.
Jennifer doesn't get it. She's trying to be nice.  She gave her daughter a compliment. Who
doesn't like compliments?

The tears spill from Taylor's eyes. She wipes
them away.

"What's wrong?"  Jennifer struggles to keep her voice
sweet and motherly. "Are you all right?"

Taylor doesn't answer. She keeps crying.

Jennifer sighs, quietly. "I'll wait until
you calm down; then you can tell me."

Taylor
nods.

Jennifer waits.

And waits.

Taylor sniffles.

"Are you ready now?" Jennifer asks
her, hoping this doesn't take overly long. She wants to get to the store. Her
kids can be so dramatic sometimes.

"I just wonder...."

"You wonder?"

"Would you hate me if I—"

“Mothers don't hate their children,"
Jennifer says.

Taylor nods.

"Why would I hate you?"

"If I stop being thin."

Jennifer laughs, but she's somewhat annoyed.
What kind of question is that? What kind of person does Taylor think she
is?  "Let's not be
melodramatic," she says.
"Of course, we'd love you. We'd love you no matter what. We'd love
you if you were one of those fat people who can't get off the couch. Look at
your father.  You know, a lot of
parents wouldn't be accepting of their children being gay. Not only does he accept
Arthur, but he's the president of Parents for Gay Marriage. Your dad and I can
tolerate a lot. We love you unconditionally." She looks at Taylor. Did she
hear all that? Was she listening? Jennifer hopes so.

"Okay," Taylor says quietly.  She's still crying a bit.

"And I wouldn't worry about gaining the
weight back. Your father and I are so proud of you. You have so much willpower
and dedication. As long as you keep up with the good habits, you won't gain
back the weight.

"But what if I do?" Now, Taylor's whining. And Jennifer wouldn't mind slapping her.

"I'll take you shopping for new clothes
again," she says.  Or do you
still have some of your old stuff?
Did you give all of it away?"

"Just some of it."

"Well, if you gain weight, I'll take you
shopping—even if I have to take you to Lane Bryant." She chuckles at
her own joke. Taylor doesn't even crack a smile. That girl really lacks in the
sense of humor department. This is the thing about being a mother. You have to
deal with difficulties like that.

* * *

Jennifer is having a fabulous time shopping
with Trisha and she notices she's not the only one with a not-living
companion.  She sees a lot of people
holding up their cell phones and talking to the person on the screen. Some of
them might be talking to living people though. It's hard to tell.

Trisha leaves the dressing room when Jennifer
gets undressed. She doesn't have to ask Trisha to do this. Trisha just offers.
She's polite that way.

When Jennifer has an outfit on, Trisha comes in
and gives her opinion via text. It's great because the girl knows her fashion.
Jennifer also likes how she's positive and sweet, but at the same time she'll
tell Jennifer if something isn't overly flattering.

After trying on twelve outfits, they decide on a
red dress that's perfect for her. It comes down right above her knees, so it's
not horribly short; but she can still show off a little leg. Jennifer's
somewhat weary about the dress being sleeveless, but Trisha insists Jennifer's
arms aren’t flabby.

The dress doesn’t have any blue or white, but
Jennifer figures she can add those colors with accessories.

Jennifer's feeling so good as she gets dressed
back in her own clothes. She starts to sing, right there in the dressing room.
That song from Xanadu. Though the
doesn't know the words well. She has to somewhat make things up.

When she gets out of the dressing room, a
mother with her daughter stops her. "Hey! Was that you singing in
there?"

"Yes," Jennifer says, a bit
embarrassed. She doesn't usually sing in public.

"You have a fantastic voice," the
woman gushes. "Really!  You
should be on American Idol! They
would love you."

Jennifer feels herself blushing. She wants to
throw her arms around this person. It's only the second time anyone has ever complimented
her singing. And such a huge compliment!

"I'm sure you hear that a lot," the
woman says.

"Not really," Jennifer says honestly.

"You're really good," the daughter
says. A third person who likes her singing!  Jennifer's now on top of the world.

As she pays for her purchase, she imagines
being on American Idol—or
better yet, The Voice. She imagines
all four judges turning around for her. Or maybe just three. They'd fight for
her.  Who would she choose?  Definitely Blake or Adam. Probably Adam.
Philip loves Christina though. He'd be really impressed if Jennifer landed
Christina as a judge. Jennifer wonders how Philip would react if she got on The Voice or American Idol. Would he be proud of her?

Jennifer remembers how they now have not-living
coaches.  Rumor has it, Michael Jackson might be on future seasons. That might
be cool.

Maybe one day they'll have Judy Garland. That
would be incredible. Jennifer gets lost in that fantasy and the sales associate
has to wake her up to remind her to take her purchase.

* * *

The next day, Jennifer wears her new dress with
blue earrings and a blue bracelet. She and Philip wait for Taylor in the
kitchen.

He looks at his watch. "I hope she's not
late," he says.

Jennifer hopes not, too.

Taylor puts their fears to rest by appearing.
Like always (lately), she looks fantastic. Like a Hollywood actress.  Jennifer can't help but by jealous.

"You look beautiful," Philip says.
Then he looks at Jennifer. "Both of you do. I'm blessed to have two. No,
three! Three beautiful women in my life."

Jennifer smiles. She loves when Philip is sweet
like this.

And look. Taylor's smiling
too. It's a wonderful day.
Happy Birthday, America!

* * *

In the car, Jennifer feels the singing
bug.

She sings "On My Own" from Les Miserables.

Philip turns on the radio as soon as she gets
to the second line. "We should find some patriotic music," he
says.

Jennifer's not a big fan of him playing with
the music while driving, but she doesn't say anything.

He searches and then gives up.  He leaves it on a classic rock station.

When a commercial comes on, Jennifer sings over
it. She sings "The Star-Spangled Banner" but doesn't know much of the
words. So after singing the beginning she skips to the end. She does good
hitting the high notes and is proud of herself.

Taylor and Philip say nothing about it.

* * *

Jennifer chats with a few other wives and some
of the female employees of Joker Jenson’s. She's somewhat bored by the
conversations though.

She looks around to find Zoe. It's been awhile
since she's had a decent conversation with her.

She
finds Zoe is sitting alone at a picnic bench. She's texting someone and looks
happy. Jennifer wonders who she's talking to.

A lot of people, she realizes, are texting
people or using video chat. There might be as many not-living people here as
living. Jennifer
loves it all.

Should she talk to Trisha?

She looks around.

Philip is busy. Of course! He's the King of the
picnic. And if he sees her texting, by chance, she can say it's someone else.
She won't have to tell him about Trisha.

She takes out her phone. There's a text already
there. Trisha has given her a compliment about her anthem singing. Jennifer
smiles, beaming. She texts back a thank you.

They chat a bit more; then Philip announces
it's time to eat.

Jennifer grabs herself a plate of ribs, baked
beans, coleslaw, and fruit salad.

Zoe pops up behind her. "Can I cut ?"
she asks.

Jennifer looks around to see if anyone minds.
No one has a look of fury. People at these picnics are usually fine with family
saving each other places.

"Is Mickey here?" Jennifer asks.

"I assume so," Zoe says, as she puts
some fruit on her plate.

"It's really over between you too?"

"Yeah," Zoe says.

"I'm sorry," Jennifer says.

"It's fine," Zoe says. She doesn't
seem too bothered.

When they finish getting their food, Zoe says "Should we find Taylor?"

Good idea.

They search for a few minutes and find Taylor
sitting alone. They walk over and join her.

Jennifer looks at Taylor's plate. She has one
strawberry, two cantaloupe chunks, and one thin watermelon slice.

"Taylor!" Zoe says. "That's not
all you're eating."

"I'm not very hungry," she
says.

"You need to eat more than that," Zoe
says.

"Do you think you're coming down with
something?" Jennifer asks. She hopes it's not one of those awful stomach
bugs.

"I'm fine." Taylor says. "Just
not hungry."

"If you don't start eating more," Zoe
says. "Next year you might be one of the guests who appears via cell phone
only."

"I'll eat more later," Taylor says.

"You better," Zoe says.  It seems she's about to say more, but
then Philip interrupts.
He's about to make his annual 4th of July speech.

The employees and their families cheer. Well, most
of them do. Other people just quietly watch and eat.  Some rude ones continue to talk among
themselves. Jennifer doesn't like them. They're very disrespectful.

Philip begins by saying happy birthday to
America. He then talks about the company. Things are going well. They all
should be happy. Though America is the best country in the world, we live in a
global economy and Joker Jenson’s is going to be expanding internationally.
They already have a place in the UK, Australia, and Singapore. They plan to
expand to Japan and the United Arab Emigrants.

He keeps talking. Jennifer keeps listening and eating.

Philip names all the charity work they've been
doing: sick children, sick adults, the ballet, school
scholarships. The list goes on and on.

As for gay marriage he says, "I know we
all have different opinions on the subject.  I respect each one of you, no matter
what you believe.  But I also know
many of you here have children, friends, aunts, uncles, parents, etc. You have
people, and you see that they love each other. Yet they're not free to fully
express that love.  As the President
of Parents for Gay Children, I stand here in front of you with a vow that we
will keep working to bring freedom to everyone. And at the same time, we will
respect and love those who feel differently.  Though we might have differences in
opinion, we stand hand in hand…together at Joker Jenson’s!"

Jennifer's so proud of him, and she chokes up
as the employees rise to give him a standing ovation.

A few families don't. They're not ready for
times to change. Or maybe they're just too stuffed with ribs and baked beans,
and don't feel like standing. They clap though. And they don't look angry or
offended.

"Before you get up and grab
dessert,"  Philip says, after
they sit down. "There's one more thing.  And it's the most important thing.  It might be one of the most important
things you hear this year.  Heck, it
might be the most important thing you hear your whole life." He pauses and
looks around. "I notice a lot of you are talking to your dearly
departed."  Philip gives a
little chuckle. "We all have different names for them, don't we?"

The audience chuckles back.

Many of them hold up their cell phones with
their not-living friends and family on the screens.

"Hi out there!"  Philip calls out to all the not-living.
"So, we're a nice mix here of living, OS's, and EB's.  It's absolutely wonderful that we can
now talk to each other. The world has changed for the better, and we're never
going back to the dark ages. I promise you that!"

The audience cheers. Jennifer cheers with them.

"But I can promise you more."

More?

"It's nice talking to our friends and
family on FaceTime and Skype. It's nice having them comment on our Twitter and
Facebook updates. But doesn’t it get old having our relationships constrained
by the boundaries of the Internet?"

Does it?
Yes, probably.  Jennifer
never thought of it before.

"What if the electricity goes out? What if
our connection goes down? Then we'll be lost. Deprived. Cut off.  It would be so much better if we could
see each other without the Internet. We've already broken down one huge wall.
Well, I'm working with a team that's going to break down even more walls.

There's lots of cheering.

But not everyone cheers.  Some people look confused, a little
scared. Some people look highly skeptical.

Jennifer's excited and supportive of her
husband's big plans. For the most part. She's a little disappointed that she
didn't get to hear about it earlier. Why does she have to find out with everyone
else?  She is his wife, after
all.

He continues. "Imagine being at this
picnic. Your dearly departed friends actually beside you."

Jennifer wonders what that means. Will they
have bodies?  Can you touch them? Hug
them? Or will they be more like hologram type things?

"I know it's hard to believe," Philip
says. "But did any of you believe what we have now would ever happen?  Remember, at one point, airplanes seemed
like science fiction."  He
waits for a moment; then adds.  When
I was a child, if someone had told me about the Internet, I would have thought
they were pulling my leg."

So true.
Jennifer looks to Zoe and Taylor. What's their reaction?

Taylor's eating a
rib.  Where did that come from?  Taylor working at it like she's some
kind of animal. It's an ugly scene—not very lady-like.  Jennifer feels guilty for thinking that.
She also worries she looked equally awful when she was eating her ribs.  She hopes not. Or at least, hopefully,
no one was watching her eat.

"So what do you think about what your
father said?" Jennifer asks.

"I love it," Zoe says, and she does
seem very happy about it.

Taylor doesn't care.  All she cares about is that awful piece
of meat she's stuffing down her face.

Chapter
Thirty-Two

SYDNEY-"Mummy, can we go home now?
Please!"

Loretta has heard those words too many
times in the last hour. She understands Mia, though. The kid's tired of being
at the restaurant. Loretta has to admit they've been here too much lately.

For the past few hours, Mia has been hanging out in William's small
office. She gets tired of being out in the crowd. Loretta visits her
frequently; in between helping William, watching the twin's broadcast, and
chatting with customers. Each time she visits Mia, she gets pestered repeatedly
about leaving.

For the most part, Loretta's fine with this
because she can't very well blame her daughter for wanting to leave. Mia's fine when she's
picked up after school and spends the afternoon and evening in the restaurant.
But right now, it's the winter holidays and she's losing her love of being at
the restaurant from morning to late evening. And it's not as if Loretta absolutely
needs to be there. They have enough staff to take care of things.  It's more that she wants to be there.
They've become famous. The restaurant is a top tourist attraction in
Sydney.

Loretta can't help but love that.

Though loving it so much does make her feel
cheap. And when she keeps her daughter at the restaurant too long, she feels
like an awful mother.

"Mummy, can we go home now? Please!"

"Are you sure you don't want to stay
longer? Just a little bit?"

"No!" Mia stomps her foot.
"Think about it.  If I wanted
to stay here longer, would I be repeatedly asking you to leave?"

"No." Loretta sighs.
"Sorry."

"I like it here  and I understand you like it here. But
I'm a child. And a child needs a well-rounded life."

"I'm failing you as a mother, aren't
I?"

Mia nods. "Yes, and it's tragic. Now come
on."

"Lets just go say good-bye
to your dad."

"Then we'll go?"

"Yes.

Mia groans. "Finally!" Then she adds.
"Well, no. I'll believe it when I see it.

* * *

They go into the kitchen where William is so
hassled and overwhelmed, he barely seems to recognize them.

His eyes and mind are going out in millions of
directions.

He does manage to kiss them both on the cheek
and say, "I love you." Then he's off again, rushing.  Stressed.

Loretta's not annoyed by it. In fact, it turns
her on for some reason; maybe because she knows when he comes home, his
attention is no longer divided. He's all hers.

* * *

When they get home, Mia insists on playing
Apples to Apples. You're supposed to play with at least four people, but Mia
ignores that rule. She's invented a way to play with just two. It's less of a
game and more of an activity. You pick the green apple card with the adjective,
then together you look through a pile of red noun cards, and each decides which
card they prefer.

The last time they played, Loretta tried to
expand the exercise by having them pick only one card between them; then have
each of them fight for their noun with an intelligent persuasive argument.

Mia hadn't been interested. So they play it her
way.

Loretta hopes Mia will get tired and go to bed
soon. She wants some time to herself. It's been several hours since she's
checked her email. She also wants to do a little dancing. She's stopped
teaching her classes and has been really lacking in the exercise department. She's also been
eating more junk food and drinking less herbal tea.

So yeah. Her life has turned to crap. But she's
really enjoying it all.

"Mummy, it's your turn to pick the
adjective."

"One more. Then it's time for you to go to
bed." She hopes her voice has enough
parental authority in it to be effective.

"One more for me. Then one more for
you." Mia insists.

Should she fight her on that?

Yes, she should.

But she doesn't. "Okay. One more card for me. Then
one more card for you."

"You sure give in easily," Mia says
with a grin.

"Don't push it." Loretta gives Mia a
look that tries to be menacing.

Mia giggles.

Loretta bops her daughter on the head with her
left hand while using her right hand to pick up a card. "Fabulous."

Mia starts looking through the cards.
"Come on, Mummy."

"Tell me when you find the card that has
my name on it," Loretta says. "I'll go with that."

"Ha! You're funny." Mia continues to
look through the cards.  Loretta
joins in the search.

She picks "having a baby", not just
because it's true; but she's wanting to win mothering points.

What does Mia pick?  Dandruff.

"Dandruff?  Really?"

Mia giggles.

"How is that fabulous?"

"Jayne, in my class, has it sometimes, and
it's like her own private little snow storm."

"Well, maybe Jayne needs to buy some special
shampoo."

Mia scratches her head and shakes it back and
forth. "Do I have any?"

"I'm not even looking," Loretta says,
maybe because she doesn't want to know at this point. "Now your
turn."

"Sensual," Mia says, and with a
wicked smile she reads the description. "Tactile, pleasing, sexual."

"Pick another card please," Loretta
says. Maybe they need to buy the kid's version of the game. There is one, isn't
there? Loretta can't remember for sure.

"I know about sex," Mia says.

"I know you do.  But…." What is a parent supposed to
do in this situation?

Mia looks through the red noun cards.  Loretta doesn't join her. Mia, can you
please humor me and pick another card?"

"Fine."

She picks again. "Phony."

Without comment, they both look through the red
cards.

Loretta can't really find anything she likes,
so she decides to be clever. Or tries to be clever. "Anthony
Hopkins."  It's not that he's
fake in a bad way. But he's an actor and he pretends to be different people. So
isn't that phony?

Loretta has to admit she's bending things a
bit, but she wants this activity to end.

Hopefully, Mia won't argue against the card.

She doesn't. She's too eager to share her
own.

Freckles.

"Why are freckles phony?"

"Jill.  Remember her?"

Another girl from Mia's class. "Yes."
Loretta knows about all the kids in Mia's class. She talks about them so often.

"She has freckles and she's phony."

"So you associate phony with
freckles."

"Yes."

"But you know, Mia. There's lots of people
who have freckles and they're not phony."

Mia sighs dramatically. "I'm not
ignorant!"

Loretta smiles at her daughter. "Of course
not."

Mia yawns.

"Come on," Loretta says. "Let's
get you to bed."

To her relief, Mia doesn't protest.

* * *

The whole going-to-bed process takes Loretta
longer than she would have liked, because once Mia's head hits the pillow, she
gets a second wind.

Suddenly, the kid has a lot more to say. The
little queen of gossip reports that one of the waiters at the restaurant kept
scratching his arm pits and it made him look like a chimpanzee. Daddy came to
visit her in the office one time and broke wind. It was a silent but deadly
one, and he snuck out without taking ownership.  Once when she was walking around the
restaurant, she overheard some girls saying they had a crush on Hayden. They
were fighting over him.

"What about Zachary?" Loretta asks.

"Hayden's the more popular one."

Loretta hadn't realized that.

Then when Mia was finishes with the restaurant,
she moved onto her classmates. Matilda and Ted have been having a lot of drama,
but Matilda might move to Melbourne.
On that subject...Whitney has moved to Perth and they won't see her
after the winter holidays.

"Will you miss her?" Loretta asks.

Mia shrugs her shoulders. "Probably not.
We weren't that close."

Loretta has the idea her daughter's not
particularly close to anyone in the class. It worries her a little.

She wonders if she should worry more.

She probably should.

"I need to go to the toilet."

Oh yeah. Of course. "Go ahead,"
Loretta says.

She waits on Mia's bed and uses the waiting
time to do some worrying.

When Mia returns, Loretta kisses her daughter
goodnight, gets a hug and kiss in return, turns off the light, and goes into
the living room.

She sits on the couch and picks up her laptop
from the floor.  She opens it and
clicks on her email.

There's one from her brother-in-law titled Important!!! Open Immediately!

Does
Philip realize he sounds like spam?
What's so important?  Loretta
figures it's just the way he is.
He's the head of a company and feels whatever he has to say is more
important than what anyone else has to say.

Out of protest, she doesn't open his email
first. She reads the one from Christina, her Hawaiian email friend. They
usually email each other about every other day, but Loretta hasn't heard from
Christina in several days.

The poor girl's not doing well, but she doesn't
go into great details. She apologizes for not writing sooner and says they're
in a really stressful situation; spiritual related.

She then writes about how she could really use
her father right now, but he's become so distant. She's also realizing she
doesn't have any real local (living) friends and regrets she hasn't made more
of an effort with that.

Despite her own troubles, she takes space in
the email to ask how Loretta is, and about Mia, William, the restaurant,
etc.

Loretta writes her back. It's hard, because
she's a bit lost for words. She tries to be as comforting as possible, but isn't
sure if her words fit the situation.
One thing she does say that she hopes is effective is

I know we
live awfully far from each other. I'm not exactly a local friend.  But I want you to know I consider you a
real friend. I'm here for you, and you can always come to me...at least via
email.

Loretta hopes her
words will bring Christina at least a little bit of comfort.

When she finishes with that email, she opens
Brenda's next.  Her mother-in-law
has enclosed three pictures of her cats and a picture of the Passionfruit
Pavlova she's made. Loretta writes her back and compliments both the cats and
the Pav.

She next opens up an email that looks innocent
and friendly enough, seeing that the subject reads simply Hello!  But when Loretta opens it, she finds
an attack. This man from Texas was watching a broadcast of Nightmare on Elm Street, and right when they were getting to the
good part, the show was interrupted by an ambitious spirit who wanted to show
off her singing talent. She sang the Cup song without cups. (It's hard for
spirits to get props sometimes).

The man blames Loretta and her family because
it's their restaurant that started it all.

If it just involved her, she'd probably ignore
the email or better yet, write something sarcastic and/or condescending back.
But the restaurant is their livelihood and she has the responsibility to be
professional about all this.

She writes a short polite email back that's
sympathetic about his situation, but does not take responsibility for the
problem. She briefly explains that the twins broadcast to the restaurant only.
It's all they do and they're not responsible for the mass broadcasts. She's
explained this a zillion times before. So yeah. It's getting old.

Now it's time to read Philip's email.

She opens it and sees it's not for her
personally. It's a group email that's gone out to her, William, Brenda, Arthur,
Bernard, and some other people she doesn't know. Maybe his parents?  No, probably not. Philip hardly talks
about them. They're away somewhere in a retirement home that he pays for. From
what Jennifer says, they rarely talk to them.

The email says:

Greetings
my wonderful family!

I
am sending this out to those who are most important to us, because, I want to
keep you in the loop.

There's
going to be a huge press release in the next few days.  I repeat. HUGE!

I
felt it was right for you to know before the general public.

I
am on a team that is working to expand communication between us and OS/EB
world.

I
know what you're thinking! We have enough already. Why ask for more? Well, the
thing

about progress is it should never stop! We keep taking steps
forward and sometimes

we take leaps!

There's not much I can tell you now,
but I will give you more information in the near future.

Just
imagine a world where you're relationship with your loved ones is not
constrained by the

Internet!

I
am very excited about all this, and I know you will be too!

Philip has succeeded in stimulating her
curiosity. He's also exhausted her.

She has to agree with him. Progress, for the
most part, is a good thing. Though there're usually side effects. It's like
medication. Are there any drugs that don't have the ability to cause problems?
That pill might take away your headache, but keep taking them and you'll
destroy your kidneys.

That's one of the reasons Loretta usually
medicates with herbal tea only.  But
even that can cause problems for some people.

On the subject of tea....

Loretta decides to have something with
chamomile before going to bed. Just the idea of the tea brings her some
relaxation and comfort.

She feels even better when she's drinking it.

But it succeeds in making her sleepy and she
misses out on her husband's homecoming.

Chapter
Thirty-Three

LONDON-Arthur sits on
the couch resting his head on Bernard's shoulder. Bernard strokes his back.
"Are you going to be all right?"

"I'm okay," Arthur
says, grateful for the affection. He wishes he could have more though. Bernard
has to get to the set. He's late already.

"I do think you should go," Bernard
says. "But it's up to you. I support you either way."

"You're perfect, Monkey Butt," Arthur
says. "Thanks."

Bernard kisses him and stands up. "I
better go."

Arthur agrees. He walks his husband to the
door.

They do another kiss or two; then Bernard walks
out.

Yesterday Arthur got an email from his
father—not a personal one. It was a group email. Either way, it was the
first time he'd heard from his father in over two weeks. A huge fight preceded
the silence.

Arthur threw the first arrow. Instead of thanking his father for the
audition, he accused him of never supporting him as an actor.

I can't remember one
time in my life that you've given me praise or encouragement for my acting. Not
one! And why do you show support now? Did you suddenly realize I might have
talent, or is this another one of your manipulative
tactics? You can't stand the fact that one of us has escaped your clutches and
moved away, can you?

Remember when I was
in high school and I had a part in Dracula. You said nothing to me afterward. I
had to ask…fish for compliments. From my own father! Do you know how demeaning
that was?

But you know what? I
came up empty. All you could say is "That was fine, but don't give up your
day job."

Do you know how much
your words hurt me?

If that's not bad enough, how about you
told Zoe, Taylor and me that we better be grateful for our affluent lifestyle,
because when we grow up and move out, things will be different. You couldn’t
once imagine that we'd achieve success equal to yours.

Parents are supposed
to want to see their child succeed.
It seems to me you've always wanted the opposite. You want us to fail.
Why? Do you feel threatened? Jealous?

I am really sick of
your narcissism.

And
he felt really sick after he sent the email. Not right away. At first, he felt
quite okay. That lasted about ten minutes. Then doubt started to sink in. Yes,
he meant every mean thing he said in the email, but maybe it wasn't the right
time to say it. Or maybe he shouldn't have said it at all.  Maybe he should have just said. That's
my father. I can't change him. I'll just try to not let him drive me insane.

What did he expect from the email when writing
it? That his father would write back and say, I'm so sorry. I've been horrible.
Yes, I feel insecure about you becoming successful.  I'm going to work on being better; and
by the way, you are a fantastic actor. I'm so proud of you.

Yes, he kind of did expect that. Everyone has
their delusions.

Bernard helped him shatter that one. Arthur had
sheepishly shared the email when Bernard returned from work.

"Well…" Bernard said. "You got
it off your chest. And I definitely understand where you're coming from."

"But?"

"Philip isn't going to give you the
reaction you want. You know that, don't you?"

Yeah. He did.

He waited nervously for the fallout.

It came a few hours later.

His dad didn't recall the Dracula comment, nor did he recall making the comment about
affluent lifestyles. Typical, Arthur thought. His father has such a convenient
memory.

What his father does remember is working very
hard throughout his life. Why? So he can provide for his wife and children. So
he can give to the community. So he can help people in need, whether it's his
children, mother-in-law, friend, neighbor, or stranger. If you have a problem with me caring so much about others and giving so
selflessly, I feel sorry for you. Does
that mean I believe you can't be successful? Never! I have always believed in
you, and I have expressed that numerously throughout the years (liar!)  But it seems you are very ignorant about
the business world. It is not always about your talents. It's about who you
know. You're very fortunate to be the son of someone who has wide connections.
If you want to be spiteful and refuse my help, that is your choice. But you are
only hurting yourself.

Another
emailed followed shortly.  I want you to know that you can hate me all
you want. I can take it.  I'm a
strong man. But always know that I love you. My wife and children are the most
important things to me.  It hurts me
profoundly to know you are blind enough to believe otherwise.

How are you supposed to respond to that?

Arthur didn't find comfort from his father's
expressed love. It just made him angry. Well, no not just that. It made him
doubt himself.

What if his father is right?  Maybe Arthur is blind, and has ignored all the good throughout the years. Maybe
his father isn’t a controlling narcissistic manipulative man with a convenient
ability to forget his mistakes and rarely praise his offspring. Maybe he’s a
good father, and Arthur is the one with the memory problems. Maybe his father
had praised him, and he had forgotten it.

As he thought about it, a memory actually
surfaced. He and some neighborhood friends had done a play in their garage. His
dad had applauded loudly and said, "I'm impressed!" So his email had
been untrue. His father had praised him. At least once. Maybe there had been
more times...forgotten.

He searched his brain. No, he couldn't remember
any.

But who knows.

He can understand why they say there're two
sides to every story. Here, Arthur was in the actual story, and he didn't know
whose side to take.

He had thought about writing his father an
email, apologizing and saying he did remember one incident of praise. Or at
least he could write and say something simple.  Like—I love you, and though I have
grievances, I still think you're a great father."

But as he thought about that and planned to
write the email, more memories flooded his head.  For example, he was in many more plays
besides Dracula. Yet that was the
only one his father had seen. Why?
He was always too busy with work. And back then,
he had the nerve to say on several occasions, “Family is more important to me
than anything. I will always rearrange my schedule to avoid missing monumental
events”.  Apparently, his son's
acting wasn’t important enough.

He remembered gaining a few pounds and his
father sending him an article about obesity. He was only two pounds
overweight!

He remembered being forced to miss his best
friend's birthday party because it was on a Sunday and Sunday was family
time.

He remembered being called selfish because,
during a trip to Disney World, Arthur suggested it might be fun to skip the
Magic Kingdom Fireworks and use that time to go on rides instead. The rides
would be less crowded.

No. Watching the fireworks was a Jenson family
Disney tradition. Translated: I love the fireworks and don't you dare take that
away from me. God-forbid his father miss one night.

And no, it was not okay for the family to split
up. Vacations are not about separating. They're about togetherness and compromise.

Compromise! Arthur doesn't have a problem with
that. Not at all. But compromise to his father is defined as Philip Jenson
having his own way, and his family being agreeable.

For disagreeing about the fireworks, Arthur was
labeled as selfish.

It wasn't the first, and it wasn't the last,
time he was called that by dear old dad.

So, no. He didn't write the email of apology.

He kept silent.

Bernard said once. "But what if he dies,
and you guys haven't worked things out?"

Arthur laughed.  It took a second for Bernard to realize
his mistake. Then he laughed too.

* * *

Now, his father has broken the silence with the
group email.  It's about some major
project involving the ghost stuff.
Arthur's not going to even try to interpret it. He'll learn more
later.

His father though had sent him a second email
this morning. This one was to him only.

I am still hurt by your cruel words,
but I want you to know that on my end, the door is still open, and it will
always be open. Also, the offer for the audition still stands. I talked to my
friend and they're still looking for talented actors  This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity
Trust me when I say you really should not let your venomous hatred of me harm
your career

Once
in a lifetime opportunity? Does that mean he should never expect to get an
opportunity again? Does his father not recognize how insulting that is?

His
father's so overdramatic. Venomous hatred?
He might be angry with his father, but when did he ever say he hated
him? That's the thing about Philip Jenson. You either worship him or you're
labeled as a hater. There's no room for criticism.

All that's beside the point though.

Arthur wonders if he should swallow his pride
and do the audition. Yes, his father's reasons are probably not what he’d like
them to be. But so what?  Is it the
end of the world if he gives his father what he wants? Is what his father wants
that horrible? All three of his children nearby?  It's a bit suffocating, but it's not his
worst trait.

It's also not a permanent move. If he gets the
part, he'll spend a few months in Atlanta; then move back to London.

Bernard is fine with him going. Not too fine
though. Arthur was glad to see him looking sad about it.  But he said, "Sometimes actors have
to separate for awhile. It's the way of the business. We'll talk every
day.  Multiple times a day."

"We can have phone sex," Arthur had
offered. Though they had tried that in the early years of their relationship
when Arthur was in Los Angeles and Bernard was in London. It hadn't worked too
well. Arthur found it to be a bit embarrassing.

They’re older now though.  Maybe they'll be better at it.

No. Probably not.

* * *

After
dwelling obsessively about it, Arthur makes his decision.

He's
going to go for it.

He
writes an email to his father. He doesn't apologize for everything (because
he's not sorry about everything), but he does apologize for being angry rather
than grateful about the audition.

His father soon writes back. He's short and
business-like. There's no mention of the fight. He asks what times are best for
Arthur, and says as soon as he gets the needed information, he’ll buy plane
tickets.

Arthur hates that his dad is buying him plane
tickets. He feels like a spoiled rich boy.

He understands he should be grateful though.
And he tries to be.

Chapter Thirty-Four

ATLANTA-Zoe
and Arthur play Mario Bros 3 on their NES in the rec room. Taylor's behind them
doing an unending amount of jumping jacks.

Then things change and Zoe's in a cave fighting
a real life Bowser.

He throws fireballs at her and she jumps.

She's not too bothered by it.

It's a dream. She's getting good at knowing
when she's dreaming and when she's awake.

She waits for Keith to appear, and in the
meantime, she continues having fun dodging fireballs.

"I really do have a good
imagination," she says.

"Yes." Bowser says. "You
do."

"You're a bit up yourself."

Zoe swirls around and sees Keith standing
there. Smiling. He grabs her and kisses her passionately. Soap opera style.

She tears off his shirt, and he does the same
with her shirt.

She reaches down his pants.

"In front of Bowser? Isn't that a bit
perverted?"

She uses her magical mind power to make Bowser
disappear.

Or, she tries
to use her magical mind power to make him disappear. It doesn't work.

"You'll get better at it," Keith
says. "Don't worry."

He grabs her hand and they quickly spin through
the air.

She finds herself in a hotel room filled with
roses and candles. A cliché, but she's not going to complain.  It's her dream after all.

She grabs Keith, drags him to the bed, and they
get busy.

* * *

Despite the fact she's just had sex at a hotel,
on a private jet, on a beach, at a water park, and on Space Mountain, Zoe still
hungers for more.

When she wakes up, she pleasures herself. She
hopes Keith was telling the truth when he says he doesn't watch her. Being
watched might turn some people on.  It
doesn't do that for her. Nor is she interested in watching someone else touch
themselves.

Despite not wanting anyone to watch her solo
act, she performs with neither shame nor guilt.

It's like digging up your nose. She does it
sometimes and it feels kind of good. Not sexual good, of course. She doesn't
have a nose-picking fetish.
But it feels good to clear her nose of blockage, and
fascinating to see what comes out. Yet, she wouldn't want to have anyone watch.
Nor does she enjoy watching other people do it. Though there is the fact she's
a daycare worker, so it's a display not foreign to her. She's seen her share of
interesting boogers.

Zoe decides to think of a better analogy for
masturbation, because maybe nose-picking is a bit off.

How about licking the cake batter from the
bowl? Or even better, sticking your face in your bowl of ice-cream when you're
still desiring more. Zoe's done that plenty of times. It's one of the nice
things about living alone.

Although now that she thinks of it. Was she
alone? She's pretty certain she can trust Keith's not watching her. But how
about other spirits?

Grandma Cornelia!

No. Don't think of that.

Zoe changes the channel in her brain, because
she's still working towards climax.

And now…it's a lost cause.

She tries again, thinking of the Space Mountain
adventure.

No, it's not working.

She gives up, gets out of bed, and puts some
waffles in the toaster. It's then that she realizes she worried for nothing.
Grandma Cornelia's OS, not earthbound. She can't spy.

Zoe notices the clock on the microwave. She has
to be at work in less than half an hour.

There's no time for a relaxing breakfast. She
puts the uncooked waffles on a plate and sticks them in the refrigerator.

She grabs a handful of peanuts, and eats them
quickly while getting dressed.

* * *

At work, Zoe helps a child who's wet his pants.

She leads a collage-making art activity.

She comforts a child who misses his
mom—not dead, but on a business trip.

She watches three kids building with unit
blocks.

She breaks up a fight between two girls who vow
to never invite each other to another future birthday party.

Through all this, her mind's preoccupied with
Keith.

Her record of refraining from thinking about
him is probably ninety seconds.

* * *

When she gets home from work, she eats her
waffles and FaceTimes Keith.

"That's a lot of syrup," he says.

"Yep." She looks into his blue eyes.
They remind her of hotel swimming pools. So inviting.

"Looks good."

"So you really have decent food
there?"

"Yummy food," he says; then looks
thoughtful. "I just remembered something."

"What?"

"My last mom was an awful cook."

"Sorry."

"I'm remembering some bad food poisoning
episodes."

"Oh?"

"She was a good mom, otherwise."

"I wonder if I was a good mom," she
says. He's told her about some of their lives, but only briefly. They haven't
done the details yet. "We've been parents. Right?"

"Yes," he says. "In our late
19th century one. Your dad and Arthur were our kids.  And Cornelia."

"Ha."

"I'm serious." He looks serious.

She's still not buying it. "Come on. You
have to be joking."

"I'm not joking," And we had one
other. His great-grandson lives in NYC. He just did an interview with
Cornelia."

"You have to be joking." She realizes
she's sounding repetitive, but come on!

"You don't believe me?"

She laughs.  "No."

He's not laughing with her.

"You really are serious?"

“I am.”

She thinks of something. "Cornelia did an
interview?  Isn't that really
hypocritical?"

"She was hypocritical when she was ours as
well."

"Hey, that's our daughter you're speaking
ill of!" She's still not sure she believes him, but figures she should try
to play along.

"Sorry," he says, his eyes twinkling.
She hates that she can't reach out and touch him.

"What about Arthur and Philip?" she
asks. "Did they get along well?"

Philip was a girl. Bessie. They got along for
the most part. You favored Arthur though…Howard. He was your favorite, and you
weren't good at hiding it. Bessie was jealous. She'd try and try to get your
attention.  She would do these
amazing tricks and you never gave her the time of day.

"Really?" Zoe wonders if she should
feel guilty. She doesn't really. More overwhelmed—by all the information.
All this might be true, but she's not feeling it. She doesn't feel like they're
talking about her and Keith. It's more like they're talking about characters
from a book.  Still. She plays
along. "Well, why didn't you intervene?" she asks.

"I was too busy favoring Cornelia, who by
the way, was Cornelia back then too. She really likes that name."

"Interesting." Zoe remembers what he
had said before. "You liked the hypocritical one?"

"Yeah. She was funny with that. And very
cute."

"And now in her future life…current life,
she was interviewed by the grandson of her brother."

"Great grandson."

"Am I expected to get all this
straight?"

"If you want to get into heaven."

"You're funny."

"I am," he says.

* * *

Later, Zoe has time alone.  Keith's out doing...ghost stuff?  She uses her alone time to do some
stomach crunches, vacuum, and sort through old mail so she can find stuff to
dump into the recycling bin.

After finishing her chores, she decides she
might want to see that interview with Grandma Cornelia. Or should she
say...hypocritical daughter Cornelia.

She opens her laptop, and first checks her
email.

There's an email from her dad.  It's a group email and has a link to a new
article. Above that, her dad's written. We've
made headline news!

She
clicks on the link and sees he's right.

The headline:
Joker Jenson's President Working On New Talking Dead Breakthrough!

Oh…little
Bessie.  You've done it now. Mommy's
very impressed with you. I'm sorry I neglected you in the past.

She is
impressed. It's not the first time she's seen her father in the news, but
usually it's local news.  Sometimes,
it's national, but just financial stuff.

Just financial.  Listen to her. She's still downplaying
poor Bessie's accomplishments.

Zoe goes to Google news and plugs Philip Jenson
into the search slot. She sees many websites have picked up the press
alert.  It's in The Guardian, The Sydney
Morning Herald, Sky News, Times of
India, The Independent, Fort Worth Telegram, Fox News, and many
more.

Zoe skims through a couple of them. There's
nothing more than what she heard at the picnic.

She'll learn more soon. Probably.

When she's done with her dad (daughter?), she
Googles Grandma Cornelia.

Well, she doesn't actually search for
"Grandma Cornelia." That wouldn't work.

She searches for Cornelia O'Keefe.

It turns out that doesn't work either.

All she gets is a website with Grandma
Cornelia's obituary. Well, that and a PinInterest account. She looks at it.
This Cornelia O'Keefe is quite fascinated with Christmas wreaths and clown
cupcakes, which makes her think it’s a different Cornelia O’Keefe. Then
again—maybe she doesn't know her grandma as well as she thought she did.

She tries again to find the article.

She Googles, "Dead and Living
Communication. Against."

Bingo.

Zoe ends up on a website called Together at Last. Together Forever.

It's a website dedicated to the whole new
phenomena. There're articles, poetry, short stories, photographs, contests,
editorials, and videos.

Her dad's announcement is on the home page, to
the left a bit. Grandma Cornelia's interview is to the right. The link box is
illustrated with The Ghostbusters
icon—a circled ghost with a slash across it.

Zoe clicks on it.

She reads.

In
ten days from now, my fiancé and I will be exchanging vows. We're expecting a
hundred guests. For twenty-five of those, we won't need to pay the per person fee.
They won't need to eat. I guess you catch my drift.  It's not unusual these days to have OS
and EB loved ones at wedding ceremonies or receptions They're not only at
weddings, but also birthday parties, baby showers, graduations. You name it!

Most
of us think it's wonderful that the ivory gates have opened and we no longer
have to question whether there's life after death. Now we know Celine Dion was
completely right when she said the heart does go on.

Well,
if not that, the soul at least.

But
some people are less keen on the whole practice.

A
man in New Jersey has started an online organization called TTDWYD. Talk to the
Dead When You're Dead.  He already
has 2000 members. His group's not the only one. They're popping up all over the
world.

On
the Other Side, we have a yet to be named group led by Cornelia O'Keefe, who
passed away from cancer in 2013. I sat down with Cornelia, via my laptop, and
we chatted about her feelings and misgivings.

Cornelia
apologizes for her hypocrisy in talking to me, a member of the still-alive
club. "Sometimes we have to break our own rules if it means preventing
harm." And Ms. O'Keefe certainly believes these communications

will cause harm. She's only recently
learned the gravity of the situation.

"In
the beginning, I knew only that we were messing with a program that has worked
well for a very long time. Our souls go through many lifetimes, and between
those lifetimes we rest and learn in what you call The Other Side."

I
interrupt to ask about the earthbound spirits.

She
says, "Yes. That happens. Many spirits cling for a time to their earthly
life. Eventually though they move on; and once they're
here, the process of rebirth begins. Sometimes it takes days. Other times it
takes years or centuries.

We
need to have lives in order to learn, and for our souls to grow. One of the
most important tools in our education is the temporary memory loss. It's hard
to take your relationship with your granddaughter seriously if you realize you
were once her daughter .

Zoe wonders if this line's not a
coincidence.

"Even
more counterproductive than that is knowing there's life after death."
O'Keefe sighs at this point. "This interferes significantly with the whole
process.

I
ask her what can we do. There's no turning back. Right? Unless there's a way
they can wipe away our memories of the past year.

"Unfortunately
that's not possible," Ms. O'Keefe says."As
I said before though, there are more dire concerns."

I
encourage her to explain.

"There's
a darkness. We call it the Arcide."

I
wait for her to continue, and she does.

"It's
in every single one of us. It's not a good thing. It's angry, hateful, and
evil. Fortunately, there's only a small amount of it in most of us. But there are
very lost souls who have accumulated more of the Arcide through numerous
lifetimes. They're earthbound and feed on the souls of other earthbound
spirits.  They can turn a good soul
into something very ugly."

"In
very rare cases, they were able to cause torment to actual living beings,
usually to souls who were already damaged themselves. Perhaps from severe
abuse. When the gates opened, so all of you could talk to your beloved, the
Arcide gained more power."

"It
sounds like a horror movie," I joke.

Mrs.
O'Keefe doesn't laugh. She doesn't even crack a smile. "It's not the least
bit humorous," she says. "The Arcide is very dangerous. I can't
overemphasis that. We know from here that some of its minions are entering the
living and causing very distressing situations. The victims become very angry
and hateful. At this point, it's usually just an inconvenience. The Arcide is
weak and can't stay in the body too long. It's expelled."

"But
we worry that gates are opening more and more. And as that happens, the
Arcide's power will grow. We think then they'll have the power to stay in the
person and cause irreversible harm to the victim's body, soul, and anyone
nearby.

Will
we be dodging green pea soup?"
I ask.

"Please,
Mr. Ramsay. Stop making jokes. This is not a laughing matter."

Then
she reminds me of that short woman from Poltergeist when she says,
"There's one more thing."

"The
Arcide itself is a huge uncontrollable mass that collects souls. Each soul
helps it grow in strength. Those who join it permanently lose all their
memories, their personality and any feelings of love and happiness.  Essentially, who they have become,
through numerous lifetimes, is completely lost."

Scary.
I don't know about you, Dear Reader, but I'm certainly terrified!

He sounds a bit sarcastic, and Zoe's offended
on behalf of her former daughter and also former Grandmother.

That being said, she's not too scared. She thinks Grandma
Cornelia might be a bit zealous, and exaggerating a bit.

Yes, there's probably this Arcide thing.

But Zoe's pretty certain it's not as bad as
Grandma Cornelia claims—just like Harry Potter isn’t really going to turn
Christian children into evil Pagans.

The world didn't end in 2012.

Nothing happened with the Y2K thing.

The killer bees never took over America.

It seems likely Cornelia's just seeking
attention.

Or then again, maybe it is a threat and Zoe's being foolish for not worrying enough.

Either way. She's not going to give up Keith.
She loves him and she can't see how, in the world, that's going to make this
Arcide thing grow.

If it does, she'll go out and seek
Horcruxes...or something like that.

* * *

When Keith FaceTimes her later, she tells him
about the article.

"Do you mind if I EB for a moment and read
it?"

"Sure," Zoe says, glad that she
cleaned a bit. He can see her apartment when they FaceTime, but it's a limited
view. When he EBs (which is rare) he gets a full 3D view.

"Have it open for me," he says.
"I don't have the power to Internet surf."

"Poor you."

He disconnects and she finds the article for
him.

She has no idea if he's there or not.  It seems to her she should get some type
of feeling of his presence, but the few times he's visited in an EB fashion,
she's felt nothing. It's pretty disappointing.

She feels a bit awkward sitting there
waiting.

She picks up a wildflower coffee table book
that sits on the coffee table. It's full of dust. It's been ages since she's
opened it. She's not really into wildflowers. It was a random gift from one of
the parents at the daycare.

Now she looks at the book, because what else
can she do?

She
could get much more interesting books off of her bookshelf, but she's kind of
too lazy to stand up right now.

Finally, Keith gets back to her.

His image on FaceTime doesn't look like one
who's terrified about the universe ending.

"So, it's not as bad as she says."

"No," he says, relaxed. "It's just Cornelia. She's always been overdramatic."

"She's a hypocritical drama queen?"

"That's one way to put it."

"There's an Arcide though?" She can't
imagine her grandmother's totally invented something to scare people.

"Yes. It's always been around. But people
don't get sucked up into it.  Okay,
maybe on very rare occasions they have.
You have to go through many lives of being horribly disgustingly
evil."

"Not just one."

"You know Hitler?" he asks.

"No?
Who's that?"

"You're funny.  Okay, but Hitler, Josef Mengele, Jeffrey
Dahmer, Bin Laden…all those people? None have them
have been sucked up into the Arcide. So that that tells you something."

"Definitely," Zoe says.

"A soul may gain a lot of evil in a
lifetime, but they're not allowed to continue down that path. The Powers that
Be have ways of preventing it. The soul’s next incarnations will start putting
them right.

"So, Hitler has a good soul now?"

"Well, he's not like Mother Theresa, or
anything like that. He and most Nazis are still doing major rehabilitation.
Some of them are fine now. Hitler and others are still struggling.  Hitler's on his twelfth life. They never
let him get past the age of nine because they worry he's not ready for
adulthood and the power that entails."

"Interesting," Zoe says.

"He's been Jewish three times, a child
with cancer once. He's lived in poverty in both Africa and India…oh, and also
here."

"And that's not helping him?"

"Well," Keith says. "He's not
become less anti-Semitic. He's very unhappy as a Jew. Well, one time he was
okay with it, but then directed all his hatred towards Palestinians. His life
with cancer was okay, though he sometimes used his illness to get his parents
to be overindulgent. He does fine when he's living with extreme adversity….the
poverty stuff.  Where he really
fails is when he's born with attributes that allow him to gain popularity.  He becomes a bully.

"Who is he now?"  Zoe's very curious.

"I don't know. Incarnations aren't public
knowledge until they're over."

"Oh."  But she thinks of something.  "You knew about my dad and
Cornelia."

"That's because they're your family, and
they've been my family. That counts as personal knowledge rather than public.
If Hitler was in your family, I'd probably know about it."

"I think I get it," she says.  For the most part.

He smiles.
"Good.  It does get
complicated."

"Okay." She looks at his face on the
screen...stares a bit. He looks at her like she's slightly nuts; then waves to
her. "So back to the Arcide," she says. "We shouldn't be too
bothered by it?"

"I don't think so," he says. "I
wouldn't worry about it." He smiles in that way that makes her want to
throw her arms around him. She can't wait to dream about him tonight.

Chapter
Thirty-Five

GAINESVILLE-Jessica sits
on her couch next to Frankie. He texts his ghost mother while Jessica looks at
their Atlanta photos on Flickr. She's just finally gotten around to uploading
them.

She and Frankie are still just friends, but not
by Jessica’s choice. Her feelings for him have gone up many notches.

She still doesn't know if he's gay or not.

Is he not making a move because he's shy?  Because he doesn't understand the
so-called rules?  Does he like to
take things very slowly?

Maybe he expects to be rejected.

Are they in different leagues? She's actually
not sure who'd be in the higher one. In her eyes, they're both attractive.
She's even grown to adore his freckles.

He's probably gay.

But then why hasn't he told her?

* * *

When Frankie stops texting his mum, she decides
to just get on with it. Why keep making it a mystery?

She means to just blurt it out, but then she
feels too awkward. So, they talk about other things—mothers, fathers,
Australian soap operas, the best frozen yogurt toppings, the fact that neither
of them like Skittles; and they question whether The Simpsons will go on forever with the cast doing voices beyond
the grave.

Then she opens her mouth to ask about the gay
thing, but instead they talk about Carrie.
Both agree the old movie was better and neither of them has read the book. They
haven't read any Stephen King and figure that's a failure on both their parts.
They make a pact to read one of his books before the summer ends.

It's when they say good-bye and Frankie's about
to walk out the door, that she asks.

"Are you gay?"

"Yes," he says simply. So that is
that.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asks,
and worries she's not doing a good job hiding her disappointment.

"I thought maybe you already knew."
He steps back into the apartment. She makes room for him. They both take a few
steps away from the door. "And I think I worried that if I announced it,
you would think I was making the assumption you had feelings for me.
Like...hey, hands off, baby. I'm gay."

Jessica's actually very embarrassed now.

"So, did you know?"

"Sort of," she says.

"If I was not gay, I promise I'd totally
be into you."

"Who said I'd be into you back?" she
challenges.

"You asked me out on a date."

"That was just as friends!"

"So you say."

Jessica
tries to laugh, but finds she's not in the mood.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." But she's not.

"Well, I'll see you later. Tomorrow, I
guess." They see each other every day.

"See ya." She tries to sound cheerful
and casual.

She waits until he leaves. Then the tears fall.

She hates that he's gay, and she hates herself
for hating it. It
makes her feel she's homophobic, though she knows she's not.

She's just disappointed.

But she'll get over it. Eventually.

Chapter
Thirty-Six

MANHATTAN-Eugene has
the apartment to himself. Anna's staying with her
parents at their hotel. They're staying in the city for the wedding.

Tomorrow he and the bitch are getting married.

Earlier this morning, he asked when they're
going to start the divorce proceeding. He had guessed they'd wait at least for
the weekend to end.

Anna told him his timing was awful, and it was
disgusting of him to bring it up now.

Now she's gone, so he's decided to do some
research.

He Googles divorce in NYC.

After some searching, he finds it's not too
expensive. As long as they keep lawyer drama out of it, the cost should be less
than $500.

There's something he didn't expect though.

You can't file for divorce until you've been
married for six months.

He wonders if Anna knows that.

They'll be stuck together for awhile. Well, at
least legally. They might not have to live together.

Who's going to move out? He hopes it's Anna. It's so hard to find a decent apartment in the
city.

Then he thinks of something. There's no way he
can afford the rent on his own. Anna pays for most of it.

Shit.

Now,
Eugene is very depressed.

Time to think about something else.

The Arcide.

At this point, he isn't scared of any mythical
darkness thing. He has enough to worry about, like how to get through the next
few days with Bridezella.

He's not sure Cornelia O'Keefe can be trusted.
She has an agenda and maybe she's lying and/or exaggerating to get what she
wants.

In a way, they've both failed though.

Ms. O'Keefe wanted to bring attention to her
cause and Eugene had hopes his article would be picked up by the major news
sources.

It hadn't happened.

The Arcide story hasn't gone far beyond the
website. Five blogs have mentioned it and there were a few mentions on Twitter.
That's it.

There's a fair amount of comments on the
article, not filtered.  One person
takes the opportunity to bash him for having a huge expensive wedding. Did he
write about how much the wedding was costing? No. They just made
assumptions.

Besides that comment, most people ignore the
small amount of personal information he inserted. They talk about the Arcide.
The comments, for the most part, can be divided into three camps.

There's:

a) people who see it
as one big joke

b) people who take it seriously
and are worried

c) people who
criticize those who joke about it.

d) people who make fun
of those who are scared

Some people flow through the various camps.

There
are personal attacks, and a couple of threats.

One person claims Cornelia O'Keefe is suffering
from sexual repression and the Arcide is really the stick that's up her
ass.

What Eugene thinks is that someone should be
moderating these comments.

* * *

Eugene lies in bed, unable to sleep.

Is it too late to back out? Can he be a runaway
groom?

His depression lifts and is temporarily
replaced by glee as he imagines Anna waiting for him to show up, then realizing
she's been left at the altar.

Shit. That's mean. Maybe he's not one of those
people who have only a sliver of the Arcide within them.

He used to think he was a fairly decent guy.
Now he's not so sure.

And

He might be homeless soon.

He won't be able to afford Manhattan unless he
finds a roommate. He doesn't know a lot of people in the city. His life here
has been rather solitary, if you don't count Anna. And why should he even count
Anna? Sebastian has probably been better company than she's been.

EB people can Skype, text, and Twitter, but
they can't pay rent. So Sebastian's not a candidate for the roommate thing.

Eugene dreads the idea of searching among
strangers to find someone. He also dreads moving to one of the other five
boroughs.

Now that he thinks of it though, with his money
alone, he won't be able to afford any of them.

* * *

Eugene doesn't fall asleep until 2:00 am, so
he's not happy when Anna wakes him up at 7:00 am.

She touches him on the shoulder, and he jumps.

"What are you doing here?" Then he
blurts out something really stupid. "Isn't it bad luck for the groom to
see the bride the day of the wedding?"

Anna rolls her eyes. "Yes. You're cursed
for life.

She has papers in her hand.  She places them on top of Eugene's
chest. "What are these?" he asks.

"Pre-nup.  I meant to give them to you earlier, but
I've been really stressed with the wedding; and it's not like you've been
helping me at all."

He picks up the papers and looks at them.
"Do you think I'm after your money?" Now that he thinks of it though,
it might not have been a bad idea. Too bad she remembered to give him the
papers.

"No.
I think you're shit, but not a gold digger."

"Thanks," he says. "Do you have
a pen?"

She opens up the drawer next to his nightstand
and grabs a pen. She hands it to him.

He signs and hands it back to her.

"Are your parents here yet?" she
asks.

"Yes," He pretends to know. He
completely forgot about them. His sister and her family too, which makes him
feel even more awful—especially seeing that if he's desperate enough, he
may have to ask to move in with one of them.

"Good," she says.

Out of the seventy-five living guests, only ten
belong to him—His parents, his sister, his brother-in-law, his niece, his
nephew, a fellow writer he's never met outside the Internet, his cousin who
lives in Washington D.C, and one of his grandfathers.

His parents are bringing a laptops and an iPad for the OS/EB table.  One's for his other grandfather, and the
other's for one of his grandmothers. Eugene has never been particularly close
to either of them, but it's nice for them to want to be there.

Eugene's also being nice and is bringing his
own laptop for Sebastian. Sebastian doesn't deserve an invitation, but what can
he say?  Eugene had a momentary
lapse of judgment and said he could come.

"Remember the ceremony starts at
4:00," Anna says. "You have your Tux, ready. Right?"

He actually does, and he also had the right
time in his head. I'll
be there."

She nods.
And for a moment, she looks really sad.

It's strange. Her sadness hurts him. It's
almost physically painful. "It's not supposed to be like this," he
says. "Is it?"

"No.
It's not."

"We're stuck in the marriage for at least
six months. Did you know that?"

"I learned it a few days ago," she
says. Then she climbs up and sits on the edge of the bed. He sits up and moves
his feet so there's room.

"This is wrong," she says. "We
should have canceled."

"I wanted to," he says. "You're
the one who wanted this." He's not willing to take partial blame when it's
completely her fault.

To his surprise, she goes along with it.
"I know. I'm the one who made the mistake."

"We could still cancel it."

"It wasn't just about the money," she
says. "I think I hoped a miracle would happen and things would get better
for us." That
certainly didn't happen.
“And giving up
felt like such a failure."

"Well, let's cancel now," he offers
again.

"No.
Now it really is too late."

He doesn't say anything.

She
looks terrified. "You're not going to stand me up.  Are you?  Please don't!"

He should. But he won't.  It could be because he has a sudden
memory flash. They're in the Natural History Museum, and he's creating dialogue
for some of the exhibits. He uses crazy voices. Anna thinks it's hilarious, and
laughs so hard she's almost crying. Then she joins in the performance, and
they're both laughing hysterically. Their dialogue gets a bit risqué and a
father with young children gives them a dirty look.

"Are you going to be there?"

Eugene wakes up from the memory. "Yes."

"Good. Thank you."

"You used to think I was funny."

"You used to think I was beautiful,"
she says back to him.

It's been a long time since he's looked at her
and seen beauty.

"We really despise each other," she
says.

He suddenly has a realization and idea.  If she wants something from him, why
can't he demand something from her? "Since I'm agreeing to marry you, can
I have the apartment for awhile?"

"Yeah," she says. "I planned to
move out."

"I mean I can't afford it."

"I know," she says. "So you need
me to be your Sugar Momma."

"Yes."

"It's a deal," she says.  But you'll pay what you can."

"Yes."

"And after the divorce, you're out of
here."

"Fine."

"Alright. I'm going to get out of
here," she says; then hops off the bed.

"See you later," he says as she heads
out the bedroom door.

She looks back at him. Then she stumbles a bit.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

She turns to him and glares furiously. What's
the deal? What has he done now?

She walks back over to the bed and slaps him
hard across the face.

What the fuck is going on? "What's that
for?" he demands.  He rubs his
face. It hurts!

"For ruining my life," she says.

"Well, you haven't made mine a
picnic."

Then her nose starts bleeding. Why is her nose
the one that's bleeding when he's the one that's been slapped?

"What's wrong with you?" he doesn't
just mean mentally, but medically as well. What's with the bloody noses? Maybe
she needs to see a doctor.

She doesn't answer.  She just keeps glaring at him. Then she
reaches out…presumably to slap him again.
He grabs her by the wrist.
She struggles, and then literally hisses.

He gets out of bed, still holding onto
her.

"Anna!"

She starts shaking. The bleeding gets worse. It's
dripping on his arm, her clothes, and onto the floor.

"Anna!"

He hears his text alert and ignores it.

Anna stops struggling. She looks up at him,
confused.

"I feel sick."

"Are you okay?" he asks. Something's
not right.

She vomits.  Most of it lands on his feet, some of it
on the floor.  He leads her to the
bathroom.  The vomit drips off his
foot and leaves a trail.

She throws up again. It's projectile and only a
small amount lands in the toilet.

When she's done, she sits on the edge of the tub.
He sits next to her.

She's trembling. He tentatively puts his arm
around her. To his surprise, she leans her head against his shoulder. "I
don't hate you," she says.

"Thank you," he says. Then after a
moment he says. "I think I hate you.
But I also still love you."

She starts to cry.

He rubs her back.

They sit there for
awhile.  He's thinking, if she has a stomach bug, they'll probably have to cancel
after all.

"How are you feeling?" he asks after
about ten minutes.

"Better," she says. "At least
physically." she gives him a small smile. "It smells really bad in
here."

He laughs.
"It does."

"Can you help me clean up?" she asks.

"Of course."

They spend the next few hours scrubbing,
bleaching, and showering.

In the midst of it all, Anna says, "Maybe
this is what they mean when they say it's bad for the groom to see the bride
before the wedding."

He laughs and realizes it's been a long time
since she's joked around in front of him.

"I feel better," she says.  "So, if you're still
willing…."

"I am," he says. "But if you
feel sick during the ceremony, please aim away from my shoes.  They're expensive."

"I know. I'm the one who bought
them," Anna says.

"Yes. I get it!" Eugene says.
"You're my Sugar Momma.  No
need to keep rubbing it in."

She gives him a small smile.

* * *

After Anna leaves, Eugene checks his texts.

There's one from Sebastian.

He says, I
see a darkness.

*
* *

It's
not until he's dressed in his tux and in the cab on the way to Anna's office,
that Eugene realizes that maybe Sebastian wasn't just being annoying.

Darkness.

Anna's strange behavior.

Maybe she's been attacked by the Arcide.

He should be terrified, but instead he's almost
hopeful.

Could it be that Anna's not the bitch he
imagines?  Maybe she's been...Arcided
all along.

He takes his phone from his pocket and texts
Sebastian.  What did you mean by the darkness thing?

There was
another spirit in the apartment. It had a bad smell and then it went into Anna.

Do you think it's always in Anna?

That's the first time I've seen it.

Oh
well. So much for the theory that the Arcide is causing all their
problems.

I
don't like it.

Eugene's done with the conversation. He puts
the phone away.

* * *

He arrives at the temp agency on time.

His family is there. They rush over and give
him huge bear hugs. He feels guilty for not thinking about them more. He should
have known when they were arriving. He should have had lunch with them, or
something. He should know how long they're staying.

His mother gives him a second hug.  She squeezes him so hard, and he finds
himself crying. She
gets teary-eyed and kisses him on the cheek. "We love
you so much. We're so proud of you."

His dad pats him on the shoulder. "Don't
be embarrassed. I cried when I married your mother."

"There's nothing wrong with a man
crying," his sister says, wiping away a tear of her own.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. "I
better get this," He excuses himself.

His parent smile with understanding that
borders on excessiveness.

He looks at the phone. There's another text
from Sebastian. Thanks for inviting me to
your wedding.

You're
welcome.  Eugene types quickly, then
gets back to his parents. He engages in small talk, asks them questions, and
doesn't really hear any of the answers.

The guests start to arrive; then it's time for
them to get in their places.

* * *

Eugene stands at the makeshift altar and looks
out at the guests. He smiles at his cousin and grandfather.

He sees his writer friend he recognizes from
photos. He waves to him. Then he looks at the table in the corner. It's crowded
with laptops and tablets. His own is up there. Sebastian waves to him. Eugene
waves back.

The music starts to play.

Eugene feels nervous.

The bride appears. She walks in-between both
her parents. He can't see her face; well, since it's hidden behind the veil.

Everyone stands.

She keeps walking forward, towards him.

He's imagined this scene in his head. A while
back, the scene was in a bookstore and he had been happy. Madly in love. Much
more recently, he imagined Bridezella approaching with him feeling pure dread.

It's not like either of those.

Right now, Eugene watches his bride get closer
and closer. He's nervous for her. He's terrified.

He worries she'll get sick again.

He looks to Sebastian, for a moment, to see if
Sebastian can give him some clue.

Is the dark thing here with them?

Sebastian doesn't look scared. He's just
watching. If anything, he looks bored.

Eugene directs his attention back to Anna.
She's still walking. She's not falling over. She's not vomiting.  He can't tell if her nose is bleeding.

*
* *

It comes to the point where he has to lift her
veil.

She's beautiful.

Her nose isn't bleeding.

Without thinking, he reaches up and touches her
cheek.

She doesn't flinch.

* * *

They say the vows they plan to break in six
months.

Then it's time to kiss the bride.

She tastes like puke.

"I did brush my teeth," she says.
"I swear."

For reasons he can't even begin to explain, he
kisses her again.

* * *

The reception's at a restaurant in the West
Village.

It's more of a cocktail party than dinner.

There's chocolate and wine.

They eat, drink, and mingle...mostly standing.
Hardly anyone sits at their assigned tables. So much for all the work they put
into the seating chart.

There's not much room for a lot of dancing, but
Anna and Eugene do share the obligatory first dance.

They dance to "What a Wonderful
World".

"Did we pick this song?" he asks.
"Or did you pick it?"

"I did. Is it okay?"

"It's fine." Then he asks. "Why
did you pick it?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "My mom
suggested it. She likes it and I figured—"

"We never had a song together," he
says.

"No, I don't think we did," she
agrees.

Maybe that's where things went wrong. He thinks
of something and smiles.

"What?" she asks.

"Maybe this can be our song."

It takes her a moment to answer. She says,
"I don't think we'll be needing a song. Not at this point."

* * *

After the guests attack with then mini bubbles,
advice, and well-wishes, Eugene and Anna return to their apartment in a limo.

He doesn't carry her over the threshold. They
just walk in and stand there. The apartment still smells horrible.

He sits down.

Anna remains standing.

He watches her.

Then she walks to the sink and starts washing
his dishes from earlier today and last night.

He starts laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"It's just funny. You in the dress, doing
dishes."

She laughs too.

He gets up and starts drying.

"Tomorrow I'm going to take a break from
our love fest and have lunch with my parents."

"I'll miss you terribly," Anna says
with a wry smile. "But I understand."

* * *

Later he gets into bed. Anna's in the other room.
Like usual, she's not going to sleep with him.

He starts to fall asleep.

Then she's there, standing next to him.

"Are you okay?"

The room’s dark. He can't see if her nose is
bleeding.

"Yeah," she says. "Can you help
me get my dress off?"

* * *

He helps her get the dress off.  Then to his surprise, she gets into bed
next to him.

"Are you going to sleep now?" he
asks.

"What does it look like?"

He doesn't respond to her sarcasm.

"Hey…" she says.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for today. I don't just mean the
wedding, but also helping me when I was sick and not hitting me back when I hit
you."

"You're very welcome," he says. He
reaches his under the blankets, trying to find her hand.

He can't find it.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

He gives up. "Never mind."

"Good night," she says.

"Good night."

Chapter
Thirty-Seven

SAN
FRANCISCO-Behind the counter of his shop, Dennis uses a Sharpie to make his
sign.

It says:

ATHEISTS STILL STANDING.

MEET HERE AT MAGIC DIRT FOOD SHOP.

JULY 16

7PM

NO CELL PHONES, LAPTOPS, OR TABLETS!

Should he offer refreshments?

He considers it for a moment.

No. Then he might get those who aren't atheist,
but just hungry.

If the attendants want food, they can bring
their own.

* * *

Dennis tapes the sign near the door and wonders
if anyone will see it.

He decides he should probably make more.

He takes out some paper and creates two more
signs. For these he adds the address of Magic Dirt since the people seeing the
sign might not know where to find his store.

* * *

After closing Magic Dirt, Dennis heads towards
the direction of his car with the signs and a roll of tape in his hand. He'll
hang up one sign here and one back in San Rafael. Though it's probably too long
of a drive for most people.

He looks around for a place to hang his
sign.

He can't find one, which makes no sense. There's been so many
times that Dennis has been annoyed by a plethora of signs. Now he can't find
any. Nor can he find a place that looks appropriate for a sign.

He's embarrassed to be searching. It makes him
feel desperate.

He does continue to look though; for about ten
more minutes.

He considers putting his sign on light posts,
but doesn't feel right doing so. He doesn't even know if it's legal.

For a moment, he thinks he'll just do it and
hope not to get caught.

But then he realizes his store is named on the
sign. There's nothing anonymous about it.

The one sign in the shop will have to do.

* * *

When
Dennis gets home, he checks the mail. There's a letter from Christina and
Kayla.

He takes it inside, uses the bathroom, and then
opens the letter.

Kayla has done her own drawing of Mickey Mouse.
It's not bad, but she could get better if she learned some basic drawing
skills.

She's written a short letter. Her handwriting
is messy, but he can read it.

Dear Grandpa,

I drew Mickey Mouse for you.

I love the pictures you send me. You are
good at drawing. Lenora likes your pictures too.

Lenora must be a school friend; or perhaps a child in the neighborhood.

He
reads the letter from Christina. It's unusually short. Usually, she writes much
more.

Dad,

Hi!
I hope you're well.  Things
are a bit stressful here.  I won't
go into it.

I'll just say I miss you and I love
you!   I wish you still had
your phone, but I understand!

No,
she doesn't understand.  If she
understood, she wouldn't put pressure on him.

It's
fine though.

He
wonders why she's stressed. Is it work related?  Something to do with Kayla?  Maybe it's a school thing. Academic?
Maybe something with Kayla's friends.

He hopes everything's fine with her shop.

Maybe she needs money.  Dennis has some that he can spare. He doesn't mind
lending it to her. Though from what he recalls, she received a good bit of
insurance money after Albert died.

Chapter
Thirty-Eight

ATLANTA-Jennifer
sings Leonard Bernstein's "Hallelujah" while she pours herself a of
cereal. Then a miracle happens. Philip gives her a compliment!

"It's wonderful to have a wife with such a
beautiful voice," he says as he comes over and squeezes her.

She can hardly believe what she's heard. She's
so in shock though, that she stops singing.

Philip puts his hand gently on her chin and
turns her face towards his own. He kisses her, and she tastes orange juice.
What's happening?

Oh, who cares? It's wonderful!

He presses against her and cups her breast with
his hand. She feels his hardness against her stomach. She looks around making
sure Taylor's not around.

"I believe Taylor's busy exercising,"
he says.

Oh yeah.
She went out for a walk.
That's good.

Jennifer goes back to kissing him.

Then he takes her hand, resting on his back,
and moves it downward and towards the front.

She feels his hardness. Then he unzips his
shorts, and she reaches in to find his erection.

He groans as she gently squeezes and
strokes.

All is going well until she remembers Trisha.
What if she's watching?

Jennifer pulls her hands out of her husband's
pants.

"Don't stop"
he says in a husky voice.

"Sorry," she says. "I was just
thinking. What if someone's watching?"

"Who'd be watching?" he realizes what
she's talking about, and laughs. "Oh. You mean an EB?"

She nods.

"I think we're safe." He cups her
breast again and directs her hand back to his crotch. "And it's a bit
ignorant to think we should all stop making love, simply because there might be
perverted EB's watching."

He's right. Jennifer's being foolish. It's
okay. And Trisha's respectful about privacy. She wouldn't stick around to
watch.

Jennifer gets back to work. She does some more
with her hand. Then he lowers her shorts, and she gets on her knees.

* * *

They finish up in the bedroom.

Jennifer clings to Philip as she has her
orgasm. She loves him so much. She wants to stay here all day like this.

It's not going to happen though. She
understands that. He has to work.

There's some good news though. He tells her
he's working from home today. So, maybe there will be time later for more of
this. He'll need to take a break at some point.

"I bet you’re counting the days until
Arthur comes home," Philip says as he gets off of her. He climbs off the
bed; stands up.

"I am," Jennifer says. Then she
counts the days in her head.  It's
six days, including today. “It will be great to have him in the house again.
"How long do you think he'll stay?"

"I don't know," Philip says. "I
can open doors for him, but then it's up to him. He might not get the
part."

This makes Jennifer curious. "Do you think
he's good enough?"

"He's not bad," Philip says.
"But unfortunately it's a competitive business. There're a lot of people
who are better. It's just the way of things. The important thing is he'll be
home. Won't it be wonderful to have all our children here again?"

"Yes," Jennifer says.

He looks down at her, lying in the bed.
"Are you going to get up, or are you planning to sleep all day?

She decides it would be nice to have more.
"Why don't you come back in here with me."

He looks annoyed for a moment, but that look
quickly vanishes. "You know I'd love to, but I have a lot of work to
do."

"I know." She reaches out and grabs
his hand. She pulls him to her, trying to get his face near her own.  He resists, and all she can manage is to
get his forearm near her mouth. She gives it a peck.

He blows her a kiss, and then pulls out of her
grasp.

"I need to get to work."

* * *

Philip's in his office downstairs, so Jennifer
feels it's safe to talk to Trisha in her upstairs office. She won't be heard.

Well, wait. No. There's Taylor.

She's probably back from her walk.

Is she?

Jennifer walks upstairs. She has to pass
Taylor's room to get to the office.

The door's closed.

Jennifer knocks.

"Come in!" Taylor says.

Jennifer opens the door and steps in to find
Taylor doing exercises with a medicine ball. Philip bought if for her a few
days ago.

"Are you liking that?"

"Yeah," Taylor says. "It's
great."

"Are you doing okay?" Jennifer asks.

"Yeah."

"Are you excited about Arthur
coming?"

"Yeah.  Are you?"

Well, this conversation's not going anywhere.
But Jennifer's satisfied that she at least made the effort.  And at least they're not fighting like
some mothers and daughters often do.

"I'll let you get back to it,"
Jennifer says.

"Okay," Taylor says cheerfully.

Jennifer gives her daughter a small wave; then
goes into the office.

She closes the door and decides to stop being
paranoid that Taylor will hear her.

She probably won't; and if she does, why would
she pay attention?

Jennifer's talked to Trisha before when not
alone in the house.  She wasn't as
nervous then as she is now.

Why?

Jennifer thinks about it and comes up with the
answer.  Secrets grow as they age.
The fact that they had an EB in their house was initially a small secret; but
now that Jennifer has kept that from her family for so many months, it's turned
into quite a big secret.

How would she manage to explain her secrecy?

Anyway, she's still worried. Yet now, she
doesn't have to worry about having an adequate reason for her worrying. That's
something, at least.

She FaceTimes Trisha.

Trisha's full of smiles.  "So…" she giggles.

Jennifer blushes. "You didn't…."

"Of course not! I left after the first
kiss began."

"Good."

"You're blushing."

"Well, I can't just turn it
off!"

"So did it go much beyond kissing?"

The blushing continues. "Much
beyond," Jennifer says.

Trisha laughs, and Jennifer laughs with her.
Then Trisha stops laughing. She puts her fingers on her lips, motioning for
Jennifer to be quiet. Jennifer assumes it's Taylor
she's worried about.

"I hear something." Trisha says.
"I'll be right back."

She vanishes from the screen. Jennifer's left
alone.

* * *

Jennifer expects Trisha to come right back, so she
just sits there staring at the screen. Waiting. But Trisha doesn't come back
right away.

Jennifer uses the time to check her email.

There're photos from her sister's Australian
mother-in-law. That woman's always sending photos. Yes, Jennifer enjoys seeing
pictures of her niece. But come on. Enough is enough.

We have—

Mia at
the restaurant!

Mia
next to the famous TV twins!

Mia
playing Apples to Apples!

Mia
wearing the sweater I knitted for her!

A Selfie
of Mia and me.

It's all somewhat sweet, but also a little
pathetic. Some people share a bit too much.

There's an email from Loretta.

G'Day Sis!

I just saw this
article yesterday. Someone sent me a link.
It's from a few weeks ago, so I'm assuming you and Philip have already
seen it. Then again, if you did, you would have probably sent me a link.  How did we both miss it?

Anyway, as you will
see, Mom has been busy!

Jennifer clicks on the link and finds herself
on a website called Together At Last!
Together Forever!   She skims the page and reads
that her mother's worried about some type of evil thing.

Philip should probably know about this.

* * *

Jennifer screams when she arrives downstairs
because her husband is lying facedown on the floor.

He quickly turns around.  She stares at him as he pulls himself
into a sitting position.

"Why are you screaming?"

"I…thought something had happened to
you."

He laughs and takes her hand. He pulls her down
so she's sitting on the couch. He stays on the floor, so she's looking down at
him.

"We're doing an exercise."

"Exercise?"  And who is we?

"There's something I need to explain to
you," he says. "And I think you're ready now."

"Okay."

He gets up and sits next to her on the couch.

She decides then that if he's sharing with her,
she should share with him.
"Philip, I have something to tell you too," she
says.

He looks surprised. "All right? You go
first."

"I have an EB.  I mean we have one. She stays here. She's
been with me since I was a child. She was murdered in our house in Madison. She
contacted me on Twitter in the very beginning. I was one of the first to get a
message.  I was going to tell you,
but I don't know...I don't know why I didn't.  I'm really sorry.  It's just…."

He laughs. "That's all?"

She's very relieved he's not mad.

"That's fine." Then he switches his
jovial expression to a stern one. "I don't know why you felt the need to
keep it a secret.  It's not exactly
reasonable of you. But let's let bygones by bygones."

"Thanks," she says.

"Now I'll tell you my news."

"Okay."

"I'm sure you've been dying to know more
about what I announced at the picnic."

"Yes!" she says.

"Well...how can I best explain it?"

"I don't know."

He thinks for a moment. "There are certain
people in the world who are gifted.
I mean spiritually."  He
chuckles a bit.  "It turns out
you're married to one of them."

Wow.
"Really?  That's
great!"

"They call us Yanjaelos."

Yan what? Well. Whatever. She keeps listening.

"Some of the traits are high
intelligence, intuition, some psychic powers. A lot of times we're
successful.  I won't deny that most
of my success comes from working very hard. But having these certain special
gifts will often lead us in the right directions.  Does that make sense?"

Jennifer barely understands him, but she'll get
it eventually. She nods.

"What I've learned is that the reason the
Internet gift happened is because of the Yanjaelos. Recently when some of them
died, they caused an opening."

Jennifer's completely lost, but she tries to
hide it.

"Let me back up," he says.
"Another trait of the Yanjaelos is that we're a sort of…I guess the best
way to describe it is….Well,  we're
gate openers.  There's a wall between
the living and dead. We can break through it, and we can break it down for
everyone else."

"Oh." That's the best Jennifer can do
in terms of a response.

"Other Yanjaelos have broken down the
first wall.  Now it's up to me to
break things down further."

"That's why you were lying down?"

"Yes," Philip says.

"Well, what's that about?"

Philip looks tense for a moment. "It's just part of it."

"Oh."  She gets the sense that he himself might
not know what it's about.

The tension fades from his face, and he grins.
"You know. I just thought of something."

"What?"

"Well, I presume it's because you live
with me that you were one of the first to get a message from an EB
friend."

Oh!
Wow. She smiles at Philip. "That's pretty great.  I guess I should thank you then."

"No,"
he says. "I don't need thanks.
I'm just happy to know I brought you some happiness. You know seeing you
happy is my inspiration for everything."

He's so sweet.  She reaches over and kisses him.

He kisses her back, but not as passionately as
before.

"So, what's your friend's name
again?"

"Trisha," she says it somewhat shyly.
She almost giggles.

"Hi there!" Philip calls out. Then to
Jennifer "Do you think she's here now?"

Now she does giggle.  He smiles at her.

"Well, Trisha.  I'm glad to officially welcome you to
the Jenson family!" Then he says to Jennifer.  "Imagine this. If you can. Soon,
we'll see your Trisha right in the room with us.  We won't have to use a computer
screen."

That's amazing," Jennifer says.

"And wonderful."

"Yes, wonderful." She's very
thrilled.

That being said, there's a tiny part of her
that's a little bit not. There was something about having Trisha as her secret
friend. Now
that it's out in the open, she feels like she's lost something.

"It's going to be great," Philip
says. He puts his arm around Jennifer.
She rests her head against his shoulder.

Then she remembers the article.

She tells him about it.

He looks preoccupied. He might not be listening,
which hurts her a bit. She listened to him. But she understands.  He's busy. He has a lot on his mind.

"So what do you think?" she asks,
mostly to see if he was listening at all. But also, she'd like his opinion.

"About?"

"My mom."

"And this Arcide thing?"  Oh! So he had been listening. More than
she thought.

"You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think your mother hates me for some
reason. Why?  I'll never understand.
I was never anything but kind and generous to her.  Maybe it has something to do with
jealousy.  Your father left her, and
maybe she hates that her daughter has a stable marriage."

Jennifer almost gasps.  She's never considered that before, but
it makes sense.

"I hate to say this, but I can now
understand why your father left.
Though I can't support the fact that he also abandoned his
daughters."

Jennifer nods, touched by his words.

"I also think she's very jealous of my
success. Her business never really went anywhere. There are those who fail, and
hate to see others succeed. They're spiteful."

"You're probably right,"
Jennifer says.

"As for the Arcide, I think it's a figment
of your mother's imagination. A way to get back at me.  Or at least it's an exaggeration."
He pauses for a second and sighs. "Oh, and Jennifer.  I really hate to say this, but maybe your
mother just wants to be free of all of us. I know it's a very painful thing to
admit, but some people see death as a way to get away from the living. For
them, it's not a blessing to be able to return and communicate."

It does hurt a bit, but Jennifer appreciates
Philip's frankness.

"Instead of admitting she's like her
ex-husband in terms of abandonment, she creates a reason for not wanting to
communicate." Philip pulls Jennifer close and kisses her cheek.  "It's okay though. You have
me.  You have so much. And you never
know. One day your mother might come to her senses."

* * *

Later when Philip is asleep on the couch,
Jennifer goes upstairs and FaceTimes Trisha.

"Did you hear?" she asks.

"Yes," Trisha says. Jennifer can't
tell if she's okay with it.

"I mean Philip knows about you now. I hope
you don't mind. I just thought it was best that we don't have secrets."

"It's fine," Trisha says, though she
doesn't seem overjoyed.

"Good." Jennifer says.

"About before," Trisha says.

"What?"

"Remember I heard noises."

"Oh yeah." Jennifer had forgotten
about that.

"There were a lot of EB's downstairs with
Philip."

Jennifer's not surprised.  It makes sense.  He was doing that strange lying down exercise
and said they were working on something. The "they" must be EB's.
"Yes, they're working on a big project."

"Okay," Trisha says.  "I just wanted to make
sure."  She thinks for a
moment, and then says "Oh! Does this involve the thing that Philip was
talking about—you being able to see me without the computer?"

"Yeah," Jennifer says.

Trisha doesn't say anything. She looks nervous.
She picks on her lips with her fingers.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know...Nothing."

Jennifer's not in the mood for this. Trisha's
being too coy, which is somewhat melodramatic.  Jennifer's  not going to bite. "Well, I should
get to bed," she says.

"I don't know if I trust those EB's,"
she says.

"They're fine." Jennifer assures her.

"Well, some of them had a scent."

"A scent?"

"They stink." When Jennifer doesn't
respond, Trisha asks, "Wait. Do I smell?"

"Not at all," Jennifer says.

Trisha gives a small laugh. "Good. For a
moment I got worried that maybe all of us smell."

Jennifer smiles at her friend. "You don't
stink. No need to worry."

* * *

Jennifer's almost asleep when Philip comes into
the room.

She opens her eyes and watches him for a
moment. Then she whispers, "I love you."

"I love you too."  He comes over and kisses her on the
forehead.

She realizes she wants more than that and tells
him.

"Honey.  I'd love too. But I'm exhausted. It's
been a really long day."

Jennifer's stung by the rejection, but she
tries not to show it. "That's fine.
Maybe tomorrow then."

"I look forward to it," Philip
says.  She watches him walk away,
and into their bathroom.

He turns on the bathroom light, which also
brightens their bedroom.

She's lost her sleepiness, and figures she'll
just wait until he's back and the lights are off to try to sleep again.

Or…maybe.
He'll change his mind and make love to her.

She hears the buzzing of his electronic
toothbrush, then the sound of him gurgling his mouthwash. She thinks about his
tongue in her mouth. She laughs quietly to herself, thinking about how she
hated French kissing when she was young.
She couldn't understand the point of tongue-wrestling.  But then she met Philip, and her
feelings completely changed.

Philip comes into the room. "You look
happy."

"I was just thinking about how much I love
you."

"And I love you," he says.
"Isn't it wonderful to know that we never have to give up this love. We're
together forever."

"It's wonderful," Jennifer agrees.

He climbs into bed with her. She cuddles in
close to him and is disappointed to find only softness against the back of her
thigh.

She resists the temptation to try to change
that.

"Speaking of eternity and all that,"
Philip says. "How's Trisha? I assume you spoke to her this evening."

Jennifer finds herself still bothered by the
fact that he now knows about Trisha. She wishes she hadn't told him.

It's wrong of her though. He has a right to
know. It's really not nice for people to have secrets from their spouses.

"Does she know about the upcoming
developments?" Philip asks.

"Yeah," Jennifer says. "She
heard."

"I bet she's really excited about
it."

Jennifer then thinks of what Trisha said. It's
nothing, probably. Still, in the spirit of stopping the secrets, she should
tell Philip.

"So...." she says.

"What?"

"Trisha happened to see some of the people
you were working with this afternoon."

"Did she?"

Is he angry?  Annoyed?  Jennifer can't tell. "Yes, I hope
that's okay. She wasn't snooping. She's not like that. I think she just heard
noises and wanted to check it out."

Philip laughs, somewhat harshly. "And that's
not snooping?"

"I'm sorry," Jennifer says quickly.
"You're right.  It was
inappropriate. I'll have a talk with her. She needs to understand that you have
important work, and some of it's very confidential."

Philip laughs again, this time not harshly.
"Relax!  Hey, you know it's not
a big deal at all.  It's reasonable
for her to be curious."

"Are you sure?" Jennifer asks.

"Trust me," he says.

"Okay."

Should she bring up the smell? Yes, she
probably should.  It might mean
something.  It's doubtful, but you
never know.

"Trisha said some of the EB's had an odor.
I think she's worried. Well, I mean....Maybe you should just be aware of
it.  It's probably nothing.  But—"

"She wants to warn us."

"Yes."

"Well, you can tell Trisha to relax. I
already know about the smell."

"You do?"

"Yes, I can smell them myself. That's the
thing about us Yanjaelos. We can perceive things that other living entities
can't. Some Yanjaelos can actually see the dead. Did you know that?"

Jennifer wonders how she'd know that. She
didn't even know what a Yanjaelos was before today.

"And most of us can at least
smell—not all EB's—but some of the more powerful ones have a slight
odor."

"Oh. I didn't know that," Jennifer
says. She's learning a lot today.

"Just as there are powerful living people,
there are also powerful people in the spiritual world.  Does that make sense?"

"Yes. Definitely." She's starting to
get it now. Probably.

"That's the miracle of partnerships. You
take powerful people, put them together, and you achieve the nearly
impossible."

Jennifer notices then that the softness against
her leg has turned hard. He pulls away a bit. She pulls him back, and kisses
him.

He doesn't resist.

Chapter
Thirty-Nine

HAWAII-Christina
sits cuddled up next to her daughter on their king sized bed, in a room lit up
with candles of various colors. Their laptop is open so Albert can talk to
them.

Lenora's there too.

Together the four of them read Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
It's the philosopher rather than the sorcerer because that's the version they
found at the used bookstore.

It was Albert's idea to read the book. They
needed something to keep their mind occupied.

Christina reads, and the others listen. Although
every so often, her voice gets tired. Then Albert takes over and read to the
kids. She can't hear him.  For some
reason, he can't read the book and be on the screen at the same time. So while
he reads aloud to the kids, she reads to herself silently.

Tonight they're on chapter ten. It's Halloween.
Harry's getting a new broom.

Meanwhile, life for the Hawaiian Muggles has
improved to a small degree.
At the least, Kayla’s no longer terrified of Christina.
They're close again. Christina hated having her daughter scared of her. Maybe
that was the worst part of all of it. That and knowing her daughter had a valid
reason to be afraid.

They haven't encountered the smelly ghost for a
week.

Before that, they had four incidents.  One was with Christina again.
Fortunately, Kayla slept through it.
Christina felt the hatred again, but it didn't get to the point where
she felt any urge to harm Kayla. Even if she had, it wouldn't have mattered.
She felt so weak and dizzy. She couldn't stand up, much less walk all the way
to Kayla's room.

The next incident was worse. This time the
ghost went into Kayla. Christina's honestly unsure of what's worse, feeling the
evil inside of you or seeing it take over your child.

She had heard Kayla whimpering. She went to Kayla's
room to check on her. She opened the door, expecting Kayla to in bed. Instead,
she was standing right there at the entrance of the room.

"Kayla?"

Her daughter reached out and scratched
Christina's arms with her fingernails. It didn't hurt much. Her nails aren't
sharp. Still, Christina had an idea of what was happening, and felt an icy
chill all over her body.

Kayla tried scratching again.

Then she kicked.

She hit.

She screamed.

Christina grabbed her daughter by both arms and
tried to get her to stop. Kayla wiggled out of her grasp and then lunged
forward to bite her. Now that hurt.
Christina cried out in pain.

Kayla bit again.  This time she actually got a small piece
of flesh. Christina looked to the wound on her arm, then to her daughter again.
Kayla was actually chewing.

Christina felt very nauseated. She couldn't
tell if it was from the pain, seeing her daughter chew and swallow her flesh,
or if the smelly ghost was now getting inside of her as well.

Kayla lunged again, and Christina grabbed her
head. She tried to keep her daughter from biting her, but at the same time
tried not to hurt her.

Kayla struggled while alternating between
screaming, crying, and giggling.

Then those noises stopped and she went back to
whimpering.

She stopped struggling and Kayla loosened her
grip.

There was a horrible smell, and Christina
thought, for a moment, now she could smell the ghost too. But then she
recognized the smell. She looked down at her daughter's legs. They were
dripping with diarrhea.

"Yucky," Kayla said, sounding much
younger than her usual self.  She
passed gas and more diarrhea poured out.

"Let's get you to the bathroom."
Christina made as if to pick Kayla up, but Kayla shook her head and took her
mother's hand.

"I can walk," she said. "If you
carry me, it will go on you."

"I don't mind," Christina whispered.
She found she didn't have enough voice to talk.

"I don't want it on you."

So there was that.

Then the two other incidents had Lenora as the
infected. She popped onto FaceTime, which resulted in Albert vanishing from the
screen. Then she started yelling.
"I know you hate me!  I
know you wish I be gone!  I wish I
could take a gun and shoot you in the face." That was one time.  The other time she said she wished she
had a shovel, and that she'd hit them with it until they were unconscious.

Now though, everything is peaceful—or as
peaceful as you can get while waiting for hell to break loose again.

Harry Potter helps. Thank you, JK Rowling.

And they've been proactive. In the past week,
they've done research. Molly has helped them by talking to people in the OS
world. Albert's been leaving them for brief periods to seek out his EB mates;
see if they have any ideas. Christina has searched the Internet.

She read an interview with Loretta's mother,
the one that had been on television. She talked about what Christina believes
is the same thing Molly told them about. But Loretta's mom gave it a name. The
Arcide. It depresses Christina to think that the power that brought her husband
back to her could be the same power that released the thing that turned her
daughter into a flesh-eating monster.

That's how the world works though.  Right? The same machine that can take
you from Hawaii to Disney Land is the same thing that can be hijacked and cause
two buildings to collapse. Jelly donuts taste delicious, but they can also make
you fat and clog your arteries.

Usually the good in things outweighs the bad.
And if the bad is really bad, you do what you can to protect yourself.

Christina has searched the Internet to see if
there are other people who have been experiencing what they're experiencing.

She's been selfishly relieved to find they're
not alone. There's a whole message board about it.

People like her are very scared. Some are
depressed. Some are okay, because they believe they've found a way to protect
themselves. All types of advice have been shared. One idea is the candles, and
that's why they have them on the dresser. There're black ones to protect them
from evil; blue to fill the room with kindness and harmony; pink is for love;
white is for spiritual health and healing.

They have gemstones under the mattress that
might offer protection. This includes eye agate, which is known to offer protection
from the evil eye. But people on the message board believe it may also help
protect against smelly ghosts/the Arcide. They also have topaz, and some kind
of bright pink stone. Christina's not sure what the pink stone is, and whether
it's supposed to help, but Kayla saw it at the store and thought it was pretty.

According to some people on the message boards,
beauty itself can help fight the evil. Sing a pretty song. Or a happy one.

One person claims that sucking on a peppermint makes
the Arcide disappear. Another says she made the smell vanish by playing one of
those colorful toy xylophones.

Several people agree with what Molly said
before. Think happy thoughts. And if you see someone else in the grip of the
Arcide, try to replace your fear with love. The best thing for the Arcide is
for you to be afraid, and then that fear turn to repulsion and hatred. But if
you can stand there and be full of love, the Arcide will weaken.

Christina loves that...in theory, at
least.  She also hated it when she
read it though, because she realizes she did feel repulsion when Kayla was in
its grip. She didn't see her beautiful, beloved daughter. She saw Kayla as a
monster, and yes, she probably (temporarily) hated her.

Once when they were talking about it, Albert
joked, "It sounds all very corny to me. I think you should just throw holy
water at it and say 'The power of Christ compels you.'"

He can laugh, but she did actually buy a
crucifix. It now sits in the drawer next to the peppermints.  She's not sure how you go about getting
the holy water. Do you just walk into a church?

There's no way to know if anything is going to
work. The smelly ghost hasn't appeared since they've begun building their
arsenal. So they just have to wait and hope to not be tested, and hope that if
they are tested, they're properly protected.

While they wait, they let Harry Potter and his
friends keep them company.

Chapter
Forty

SYDNEY-Like
usual, the restaurant is packed. Every table's occupied. Each chair is being
used.

Mia sits at the bar drawing cats and rainbows.
She's already done with her homework. Loretta checks on her every few minutes.
In-between her mothering moments, she takes orders for tea and delivers the
tea. While
doing all this, she tries to listen to Hayden and Zachary's performance as much
as possible.

Zachary says. "Just in case some of you
are in the dark about the Arcide, we feel it's our duty to warn you."

Hayden chimes in. "Or you may end up in
darkness." He wiggles his fingers, widens his eyes, and grunts like a
zombie.

"Beware," Zachary says.

Loretta looks around to get a feel of the
audience reaction. Most of them are laughing.  No one looks worried.  It's similar to the reaction people had
to the idea of the world ending in 2012. For the most part, it’s taken as a big
joke.

She's wondering when the Arcide horror movies
will begin. Who will star? George Clooney? Maybe that girl from The Hunger Games. What's her name again?

Loretta realizes something as she's brews a pot
of apple ginseng tea. She might be in the movie!

Could she be? After all, it's her mother who
first made the announcement. Their family's kind of in the middle of all this;
not to mention they play a big part in the story because of the restaurant. Now
that she thinks of it—Philip plays a big part as well. And he's her
brother-in-law.

Loretta wonders what it would be like to see an
actress playing her in a movie.

* * *

After
the twin's performance ends, the restaurant clears out a bit. Loretta waits for
Mia to ask to be taken home. It usually happens around this time.

No one's asking for tea at this point. Loretta
decides to check her email.

There's one from Christina. Loretta hasn't
heard from her in almost two weeks. Now that she sees the email, she wishes she
had taken the effort to reach out again. Yes, she had responded to Christina's
last email, and it was Christina that owed her an email.  But Loretta knew her friend was having
problems, and she feels she should have worked harder to make sure things were
okay.

Loretta
clicks on the email and reads.

Hi
Loretta!

I'm
sorry I haven't written in awhile.

Things
are still rough here; but they're getting better. At least I hope they are.

I
should stop being so mysterious and just tell you what's going on. It can't
hurt, and maybe you can offer some advice.

I'm
going to assume you read that article about your mother. You know the Arcide
she spoke about? Well, I believe it's been attacking us. I've gotten sick from
it, and Kayla has as well.

We've
had a week hiatus from the terror, which is nice. I'm trying to enjoy it, but
it's hard because we don't know when it's going to hit us again.

Do
you know what it reminds me of? You know when your child has a stomach bug…it's  like after they vomit, and you're trying
to entertain them and relax, while knowing soon there will be another attack,
and you're going to have to do another round of cleaning.

I
think we're going to be okay. We've got an arsenal of witchy wonders—candles,
gemstones, and happy thoughts.

I'm
thinking of trying some tea. Since you're the expert, maybe you have some ideas
for ingredients that ward off evil.

Do
I sound completely ridiculous? I hope not.

Enough
about me!  How are you?  William?  The restaurant? How's Mia?  Are you still worried about her not
having enough friends? From what you say, she reminds me so much of Kayla. I
can't call Kayla a social butterfly. In fact, her best friend is a spirit. I'm
not sure if I've told you that or not.

I
wish we lived in Sydney or you guys lived in Hawaii, so we could get the girls
together!

Anyway, take care!

Love,

Christina

Now
Loretta feels even guiltier. Here she's laughing along with others about the
Arcide, while Christina's family is being attacked by it.

Though maybe….

Sometimes people imagine things, or they blow
them out of proportion.

No.

Loretta
stops herself. She
knows her friend. They've been writing since the girls were toddlers.  Christina's low-key. She's not a drama
queen.  She wouldn't make things up.
If she believes there's a problem, there's a problem.

Still. That doesn't mean the Arcide's a threat
to humankind. Christina may not blow things out of proportion, but that doesn't
mean the same goes for Loretta's dear mother.

* * *

The idea comes to Loretta just as she and Mia
are about to leave. What if they FaceTimed Christina and Kayla?  Maybe the kids could be video-chat
friends.  It's funny that they've talked
through email for so many years and have never taken things a step
further.

Well, it's never too late.

Should they call now? What's the time
difference?  Maybe they should wait
until they get home.

Loretta tries to figure it out in her head.  Okay. So it's 5:00 am in Atlanta, where
her sister lives. Hawaii is how many hours back? Or is it forward?

No, it's back.

She's not sure by how much though. She'll have
to look it up.

Loretta does that with her phone.

It's 11:00. Way too late. They'll have to try
tomorrow.

For now though, she'll write an email. Or at
least she'll get it started. If Mia asks to go home, she can save the draft and
continue it later.

* * *

Christina writes an email, expressing sympathy and
concern over the Arcide. She doesn't know any evil-fighting teas, but promises
to look into that.  She skips
answering questions about her own life and instead dives into the whole
FaceTime thing. I really want to talk to
you, and I think it will be great for the girls to "meet", but I'm
also nervous. What do you think about it? Do you want to give it a try?

She finishes the email, then presses send.
Afterward, she feels stupid for admitting she's nervous. She was expecting
Christina to maybe feel the same, but why would she? She FaceTimes her husband
who died years ago. Talking to a living online friend is probably nothing to
her.

* * *

Mia finally asks to go. It's close to
9:00.  Just as they're about to
leave, Loretta gets an email back from Christina. Wow. She's up really late.

Christina says only one thing. Let's talk now!  It would be fantastic to hear from
you!  She's provided her phone
number.

Now?
It's past midnight there.

Well, that's fine. Apparently, they're on a
very late schedule.

"Mummy, can we go please!"

"Mia, how would you like to talk to Kayla?
Remember my friend in Hawaii?"

"I thought Kayla's mum was your
friend."

"Yes. You know what I mean."

Mia shrugs her shoulders.

"So, what do you think? Do you want to
talk to her?"

"No thanks."

Loretta's taken aback. She wasn't expecting
this. For some reason, she assumed Mia would be excited.  It's kind of ridiculous of her, though.
Mia's never been one to seek out conversations with kids her own age.
"Well, I'm going to talk to Kayla's mom. Then if you change your mind, you
can talk to Kayla."

"I'm not going to change my mind."

"That's fine." Loretta tries hard not
to sound exasperated.

"Can we go home now?"

"After we call."

"Why don't you call after we go home, and
after I go to bed?"

It would be a reasonable request if it weren't
for the time zone thing. "It'll be too late to call them then."

Mia glares at her. "Well, it's late for me
and this is a school night.  Did you
forget that?"

"I don't like your attitude," Loretta
snaps. Then she feels terrible. What she really doesn't like is her own
parenting. "Look Mia. I'm sorry. This is very important to Mummy. Let me
call. You can do what you used to do—put your pajamas on and sleep on the
blow up bed? Okay? I think we still have some pajamas here. Don't we?"

"Don't talk about yourself in third
person," Mia says. "I hate when you do that."

Loretta can't help but laugh a little.
"Sorry. But can you sleep here for awhile?"

"My teeth."

"I think we still have a toothbrush for
you here."

Mia sighs. "Fine."

Loretta doesn't feel triumphant in winning.
It's really awful that they're getting home each night past nine. Mia's usually
not asleep until ten-thirty or eleven; then she has to wake up at around
seven-thirty to get ready for school on time. Is that enough sleep for a
seven-year-old?

Loretta does the math.  No, it's only eight hours. She's
guessing kids that young are supposed to get more
sleep than that.

She has an idea—one that she should have
thought of long ago.

"How about this," she says to Mia.
"We're going to get home late tonight. And I'm sorry. But tomorrow, I'll
pick you up from school and we'll go straight home."

"No restaurant?" Mia looks so happy,
which makes Loretta feel incredibly guilty.

"No restaurant."

Mia jumps up in down and cheers. A few
customers look over at them. They smile at the mother and child. They'd
probably stop smiling if they knew Loretta was such a terrible parent.

"Can we go to the park tomorrow?" Mia
asks.

"If it's not too cold. We'll look at the
weather."

"Yes! Yes! Thank you. Thank you!"

"Or maybe...we'll go visit Grandma."

Mia cheers even louder and throws her arms
around Loretta. She's really been depriving her child.  "Let's do that even if the weather
is nice.  I can always play in
Grandma's garden."

"Well, we'll need to ask Grandma."

"When does she ever say no to spending
time with me?"

Loretta laughs.  "Never."

"Okay. So go make your FaceTime
call."

Loretta decides to do it in the office.  Mia doesn't join her. She can hear her
daughter prancing around the restaurant. Now the child's so happy, she's lost
her tiredness.

* * *

Christina answers very quickly.
"Hello!" Loretta can see she's in bed.  She's wearing a t-shirt and her dark brown
hair is pulled back in a ponytail.

"Hi!"

"Aren't you supposed to say G'Day mate, or
something like that?"

"Well, then you should be saying
aloha!"

Christina laughs. "Aloha."

"G'day."

They both laugh, and then they seem to have
nothing to say. FaceTime awkwardness.

Loretta hears footsteps and a child laughing.
"Is that Kayla?"

"Yeah. We're on a late schedule. It's
summer break, and we...well, I'm a bad mom."

Loretta laughs. "Join the club." Why
is it always such a relief to find parents who might be just as screwed up as
you?

"You don't have any accent?"
Christina says. "Oh, but you're not originally from there. Right? I always
forget that."

"My sister sometimes says I have a bit of
one."

"I'll listen out for it," Christina
says.

"I think for the most part I sound
American."

"You do." Christina agrees.

Then more silence.

"So…" Loretta says.

"Where's Mia?"

"She's running around the restaurant. I
think she's a bit shy."

"Kayla can be like that sometimes."
Christina says.

With that, Kayla pops onto the screen for
a quick look. She waves, giggles, and then disappears. "Let's play hide
and go seek!" she says. Then..."Please! Mommy's FaceTiming her
Australian. We're not going to bed anytime soon...Really? Yay!"

"Albert!" Christina says. Then she
turns back to the screen. "Sorry about all that."

"It's amazing to me that Kayla can talk to
her dad without the Internet." Loretta actually knew about Kayla’s ability
before the whole big thing happened. Christina hadn't presented it as fact.
Hey, my daughter's a medium. There's no doubt. You better believe it.  They had just been talking about
parenting stuff. Challenges.
Christina had told her that Kayla talks to her dead father.  She said something like, "Sometimes
I believe it's true."

Loretta had written back. "Maybe it
is. You never know."
Loretta tries to keep an open mind about things. She had
thought it could be that Kayla had an overactive imagination, but she also
believed it could be much more.

And look. She had been right.

"It's nice she can do it," Christina
says. Though it can be annoying when they have conversations and I hear only
one side of it."

"Do you feel left out?" Loretta asks.

Christina thinks for a moment, and then says.
"You know what? I do. Is that terrible of me?"

Loretta shook her head. "No, not at
all."

Christina smiles. "Thanks."

Mia comes into the office, and with a stage
whisper says, "Are you done yet?"

"I'll be done in a minute." Quietly
to Loretta she says, "Or two."

"Hi Mia!" Christina calls out.

Mia comes over and puts herself on the screen.
She stares at Christina.

"Mia," Loretta hopes her daughter's
not going to be rude, or worse yet—a brat. "Do you want to say
hi?"

"Hi!"

"Kayla, come say hello to Mia."

"I'm hiding!"

"Please say hello. Then you can go back to
hiding."

Kayla groaned. "Never mind. Lenora found
me."

Who's Lenora? Loretta's a bit lost. Just in
case, Christina mentioned her in an email and Loretta forgot, she decides to
hide her ignorance. Instead she asks, "Are spirits good at hide and
seek?"

"She's playing hide and seek with
ghosts?" Mia asks.

"Yeah, Mia," Christina says. "Is
that a bit nuts?"

"I think it's very cool," Mia says.
"I wish I had a ghost friend."

"I have two," Kayla says. "Well,
one is my dad.  But he is my friend. He died when I was
three."

"My dad's alive," Mia says, almost as
if it were a failure. "But he might have a heart attack or blow up
someday."

Loretta burst out laughing. She can't help it.
To her relief, Christina laughs too. "We're evil," Loretta says.

"We are," Christina says. "Who
needs the Arcide?"  Loretta
figures it's good her friend can joke about it.  If she can joke about it…well, then maybe
it's not so bad.

"I don't have ghost friends," Mia
says to Kayla.  "But I do have
ghosts on our TV at the restaurants.
They're sort of my friends. But they're famous, and famous people are
busy. They rarely give me the time of day. But they do know my name. And
sometimes I show them my drawings and my dance steps."

"I dance too," Kayla says. "I
dance with Lenora sometimes. And I also draw!"

"You girls have so much in common!"
Loretta says. "Maybe you can be friends."

"Maybe," Mia says. Then to Kayla she
says, "There's this girl in my class who can draw the snowman from Frozen. Perfectly. Really. You can't
tell the difference between her work and the real thing."

"Wow," Kayla says.

"But she's a bit of a show off about
it."

"Show-offs are annoying," Kayla
says.

"I know," Mia says. "Tell me
about it."

"Hey, have you read Harry Potter?"

"Not yet!" Mia says. "But I want
to. I saw the first three movies and I loved them."

"You have to read the book!" Kayla
says.  "It's so good!"

Mia turns to Loretta.  "Can we read them?"

"Sure," Loretta says. She's the right
age. Isn't she? Well, Kayla's the same age and she's reading it.

Then Loretta hears someone sniffling. Crying.
It's coming from the screen, not the restaurant.

"What's wrong, Mommy?" Kayla asks,
making Loretta realize it's Christina that's crying.

"Are you okay?" Loretta says, hoping
this isn't an Arcide type thing.

"I'm fine," Christina says, and her
tear-stained face appears on the screen. "Sorry.  I'm just getting a little emotional. Do
you know what I mean? The kids and...I think you know
what I mean?  Right?"

Loretta nods and then her own tears start
flowing. She knows exactly what Christina means.  It's being friends for so many years,
and then seeing their two daughters talking like this. And the fact that both
girls have trouble making friends. It's kind of like a small miracle

"Mummy!" Mia says. "Stop your
crying."  She giggles a bit,
obviously embarrassed by the display of emotions.

Loretta pulls Mia close to her and hugs her.
Then she kisses her on the forehead.
She watches as Christina does the same with her daughter.

They then continue their talk.  It goes on for quite awhile. Sometimes
Kayla and Mia talk while Christina and Loretta listen. Other times, Loretta and
Christina have time to talk alone, because Kayla runs off to play with her dad
and friend, and Mia then goes to help her dad. The restaurant's closed now.
He's cleaning.   At one point,
he comes into the office and Loretta introduces him to Christina and Kayla.

"My dad's here too," Kayla says.
"You can't see him. But he can hear you."

Loretta, Mia, and William all call out hello to
Albert. Then Loretta remembers Lenora (whoever that is) and says hello to her
as well.

Christian smiles at this. Kayla says. "She
says hi back!"

* * *

William and Loretta leave the restaurant at the
same time, which they haven't done in awhile. But they have to drive separately
because they both have their cars there.

When they get to their building, William picks
up Mia who's sleeping, and carries her upstairs to her bedroom. Loretta waits for him
in the hall. When he comes out, he pulls her into his arms. "Thank you for
being so supportive of all of this," he says.

"You don't need to thank me," she
says.

He kisses her, and she kisses him back.

"I'm going to make some tea," she
says. "Do you want some?"

"Please," he says. He collapses on
the couch as she puts the pot on the stove.

"Hey," she calls out.

"Yeah?"

"Can you please try not to blow up or have
a heart attack? At least not any time soon."

"I'll try my best," he calls back to
her.

"Thank you."  She comes over and sits next to him. She
leans her head on his shoulder.

He plays with strands of her hair. She loves
when he does that, sometimes even more than she loves sex. Though sex is very
nice as well.

"If I fall asleep, you get the tea."

"Let's buy a servant," he says.
"They can get the tea."

"Rub our feet," she says.

"Play with your hair," he offers.

"No," she says. "I like when you
do it."

He kisses her on the cheek. "Thanks,"
he says.

"For what?"

"Making me feel needed."

"You are
needed," she says, and then gets up to check on the tea.

Chapter
Forty-One

ATLANTA-Zoe
loads the dishwasher, struggling to fit the glasses in correctly, while Mickey sits
at the kitchen table talking to her.
He tells her he's recently gotten his pilot's license and he's going to
go to a city in Mexico with a world famous sunset.

"After
that I'm going to fly to London, just for lunch."

"Sounds nice," Zoe says.

"You're welcome to come with me," he
says. "Your father says it's fine. I've already asked his permission.

Zoe
thinks about how it would be great to go to London, and the Mexican place.

"We can visit the Tower of London, ride on
Big Ben. Collect coins. Sheer colorful sheep.” It all sounds wonderful, though
truth be told, she's not overly eager to go there with
Mickey. "Maybe your dad can come too."

"Maybe," she says, still struggling
to fit in the glasses. One of them breaks in her hands. She drops the pieces on
the floor.

"Oops," Mickey says. As she bends
down to pick up the glass, he says, "Did you know your dad can stand on
his head and walk with his ears?"

"No?
Really!"

"And he's really good at roller-skating
while chewing gum at the same time."

"Cool."

Now they're on the plane. Her dad's not there.
Zoe and Mickey fly the plane together using joysticks.

Gary Sinise is behind
them. "A little to the left," he directs. "No, more to the
right. Watch out for Teddy Ruxpin!"

She doesn't see Teddy Ruxpin.

Then they're riding on a log-ride vehicle, but
they're not on a ride. They're on a river.

Zoe's dad swims up to them.  "Hi!" he says. He shakes out
his blond hair like a dog.  Then he
climbs up onto the boat.  It tips
over and Zoe finds herself underwater.
She sees a lot of menacing jellyfish.

Then she finds herself in bed, and she's
terrified.  Because it's the first
night in weeks that Keith hasn't visited her dreams.

* * *

It's okay.

It's going to be okay.

She calls him on FaceTime while her waffles are
in the toaster.

He doesn't answer.

It's going to be okay.

She puts butter on the waffles, and then syrup.

She calls him on FaceTime while she eats the
waffles.

He doesn't answer.

It's going to be okay. He'll show up
eventually.

Zoe suddenly pictures herself on a date with
Mickey and wants to blink herself out of existence.

She tries to FaceTime Keith on the phone while
driving, which is something she never does.

She almost goes through a red light.

He doesn't answer.

* * *

Zoe's beyond distracted at work.

She almost gives Sharon grape juice instead of
water, which with Sharon being diabetic, it's quite a problem. When Lenny wets
his pants, she takes off his dirty clothes, wipes his legs, and then starts to
put the dirty clothes back on him. She puts Sarah's shoes on the wrong feet.

When she has to pee, she goes into the small
children's bathroom instead of going out into the grown-up bathroom in the
hall. Fortunately that's the only mistake her coworkers notice. Otherwise, she
might be fired.  No, well…probably
not, since her dad's the head of the company.

* * *

After work, Zoe tries to FaceTime Keith in the
car. This time, she does it while in the parking lot.

He's still not answering.

She's worried; and she's feeling abandoned, and
hopeless.

Something really bad has happened, whether it's
that he's gotten gobbled up by something evil, or he has decided he's no longer
interested in being her soulmate.

Zoe tries not to fall apart.

Think happy thoughts.

Her brother's coming home to visit in a few
days.

No, that's not working. Of course she loves
Arthur, but she wanted to introduce him to Keith. Now that won't happen. Zoe
sighs with extreme despair.

* * *

Zoe considers drowning herself in ice-cream,
but she's not hungry. Also, she doesn't have any ice-cream in the refrigerator.
She's certainly not in the mood for Kroger.

She sits on the couch and stares into space.

She never wants to sleep again.

She wants to die. But that won't help.

* * *

Her phone rings.

She ignores it.

It's going to be something like Mickey.

Or maybe they're going to fire her at the
daycare after all.

* * *

Zoe picks at her dinner. Her phone rings
again.

It's probably her mom and dad.

She definitely doesn't want to talk to them.

* * *

After an overindulgent 30 minute shower, Zoe's
ready to face utter disappointment.

She picks up the ringing phone.

She bursts into tears when she sees it's a
FaceTime call. She answers it and sees Keith's blue eyes staring back at her.
He looks back at her with so much love and concern; she immediately forgives
his absence.

* * *

After Keith provides copious apologies, gives
Zoe a million promises he'll never stop loving her, and says he'd do everything
in his power to get back to her (if lost), he says he has something to tell
her.

"What is it?"

"It's about what I learned when I was
meeting with them."

Them. Yes. That's why he was missing in her
dreams. He must have been busy meeting with important dead people.

"Okay?"

"I don't want you to panic."

"I did enough of that already."

"Exactly," he says. "So
anyway.  It turns out maybe
Cornelia's concerns had more merit than I thought."

"Uh oh."  She refrains from freaking out, because
Keith looks fairly calm. Plus, he said not to panic.

"Well, your dad…."

"Bessie?"

He smiles.
"Yes, Bessie. Well, it turns out he's something called a
Yanjaelos."

"What's that?"

"They're powerful souls. It's why, when he
was our daughter, he could do those tricks."

"What kind of tricks?"  And she feels bad for not asking before.

"Mind-reading stuff.  She could guess what number we were
thinking of. She could calm animals. She knew who was at the door before we
opened it."

"Cool." Zoe still feels bad for not
giving the kid enough kudos.

"It's probably why he's so
successful.  Yanjaelos are good at
influencing people."

"And…."  She wants him to get to the point.

"That's why your dad has the power to open
things up more between all of us."

"Is he the one that started it all in the
first place?" Go Bessie!

"No," Keith says. "We have other
souls to thank for that."

"I'm very thankful to them," Zoe
says.

"I am too," Keith says.  "But as Cornelia says, there's a
downside."

"The Arcide."

"Yes. She's right. It's gotten
stronger.  According to the Powers
that Be, there has been an increase
in people getting sucked up into it. It's really horrible. There was a family
in Canada…good people.  No previous
problems. At least not serious ones. The teenage daughter took the car out of
the garage, then drove it into the kitchen, killing all of them."

"Oh no."

"No, that's not the worst of it,"
Keith says. "They're souls are MIA.
Gone. They've searched and searched and searched. This doesn't
happen."

Now Zoe feels a twinge of uneasiness.

"They believe the whole family's part of
the Arcide."

"And that's it?"

"If that's what happened to them, their
souls are gone forever."

Zoe nods.
She's not sure what the correct response is to this. She feels a bit
lost and helpless.

"We're worried it's going to happen again,
and if your father does what he says he's going to do, all's going to go to
hell….for lack of a better term.  If
your father backs off, we think the soul loss thing will be rare, or hopefully
never again."

"Hopefully," Zoe says quietly.
"So what.  Should I talk to my
dad?  Explain things? Tell him to
drop the whole thing?"  She
imagines it's going to be a struggle.
When her father has a brilliant plan, it's hard to talk him out of
it.  Actually though, she's not sure
if she's ever tried.

"No," he says. "There's a
catch.  See…it turns out your dad's
not powerful enough at this stage. In order for him to be the Yanjaelos they
need him to be—Well, he needs to die first."

"Shit!" Zoe's so shocked she bites
her tongue. "Ow."

"Are you okay?

She nods.
"Does he know about this?" Her dad's planning to kill himself?
What the hell is happening to her world?

"No," Keith says. "They're
fairly sure he doesn't know. They're not even sure whether the EB people, he's
working with, know it. But it seems likely they do."

"So, as long as he's alive, we're all
okay."

"Essentially."

"He's fairly young. He doesn't drink. He
exercises. He limits his intake of saturated fats."

"Good," Keith says.

"But he's not going to live forever."

"No," Keith says. "But hopefully
until now and then, we'll figure something out."

"And I'm really not supposed to
panic?"

"Try not to."

"I'm trying," Zoe says. "But
see, I just pictured my dad tripping on the staircase. Oh, and now I see him
having a heart attack at work. You know, when we were kids, he fell out of our
tree house."

"But he survived, right?"

"Yeah."

"He's a strong guy. We'll be okay."

Zoe tries to believe him.  In terms of fear though, what she feels
now pales in comparison to what she felt earlier today. It seems she'd rather
the world get sucked up into the Arcide than she be abandoned by her dream
boyfriend. She remembers reading blog entries in which Bella Swan was called
pathetic, weak, and anti-feminist by disgruntled readers of the Twilight series who didn't like Bella's
reaction to being dumped by Edward Cullen.

Zoe decides, compared to herself, Bella Swan
was doing a fine job holding things together.

No.
No.  Never mind. Bella Swan
did dangerous things.  Zoe hadn't.

Although, who knows what she might have done if
Keith's disappearance had lasted longer.

Well, no wait.  She went without him for five whole
years. She survived, and didn't go nuts.

So, there!

Still, that being said. She does have sympathy
for Bella Swan. She understands.

"Zoe?"

"What?" She snaps out of her deep
thoughts.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." She is, but she realizes she's
suddenly hungry for ice-cream. "I'm going to say goodbye for a few
minutes. I'm going to go to the grocery store."

"Do you mind if I EB and come with
you?" he asks.

"Sure." She smiles.

He's so sweet.

Chapter
Forty-Two

SAN FRANCISCO-Dennis rings
up his last customer at 6:30. At 7:00, he locks the door, because it's closing
time. He goes into the back where he's stored the chairs, and carries them out.

He dreads waiting, understanding that it's
likely no one will ever show up.

He puts two chairs down near the front of the
store. Then he goes in back and gets two more. He puts them in a circle and
sits down on one of them.

He has more chairs in the back, but he doesn't
think he'll need them.

* * *

At 7:10, he wonders if it was a mistake to lock
the door. People might feel put off if the door's locked.

He unlocks the door.

*
* *

At 7:13, he gives up. He stands up, locks the
door, picks up his chair, folds it, and carries it back into the storage room.

As he's walking back to the front, he hears
knocking.  He looks to the door, and
sees five people peering through the glass. They're young. College-aged. One
looks like she's still in high school.

A
girl with curly blond hair lifts up a cell phone and starts texting. Dennis
taps on the glass and glares at her. She sheepishly smiles and puts it away.

A slight male wearing a hat knocks on the
glass. He calls out. "Can we come in? Is this the meeting for
atheists?"

"No phones!" Dennis says. "Put
them away."

"Will do!" the one with the hat says.
He looks to the others and they nod in what Dennis hopes is agreement.

He unlocks the door, and opens it.

One by one, they step into the threshold. First
the curly blond, then one with a mustache that almost looks drawn on. The curly
blond comes next, followed by a girl with purple hair. She's the one who looks
high school age. Last, is the boy with the hat.

Dennis doesn't remember seeing any of them in
his shop. Well, he's getting old. He must have forgotten them.

"Should we sit?" Curly Blond
asks.  "Is that allowed?

He doesn't like her tone.  "Sit," he says. But then he realizes there are
not enough chairs. He heads to the back to get more. Moustache and Purple hair
soon follow, and they help him carry the chairs.  Once they’re all seated, he wonders…did
they all come together?  He decides
to ask.  "Do you know each
other?"

"We met outside the door," Purple
Hair says. She smiles. Dennis notices she has a rather large gap between her
front teeth.

Curly Blond points to Hat Boy with her eyes.
"We know each other."

"Where's Alf?" Hat boy asks.

Curly Blond shrugs her shoulders.

Mustache says, "Leave it to Alf to put
something up on Twitter, then not attend himself."

They all laugh.

Twitter?
Dennis takes a deep breath through his nose. This was a complete
mistake. He dreads the rest of the meeting. What if they keep
wanting to talk about Twitter.

"Are you following Alf?" Purple Hair
asks Dennis.

There's probably a lot of Alf's on
Twitter," Curly Blond says. She sounds very conceited to Dennis. He doesn't like her.

Purple hair laughs a bit. "Right.  It's AlfJoy." To Dennis. "Do
you follow him?"

"I'm not on Twitter," Dennis says.

"Really?" Purple Hair says. "How
about Facebook?"

He shakes his head.

"That's cool, Man." Mustache says.
"Those things can suck up your time.

"True that," Hat boy says.
"I need to wean myself off of them."

"But
they're good for finding out about these things," Purple Hair says.
"She gives Dennis a big friendly smile that really annoys him. "Like
this meeting."

The meeting. Yes. Is it too late to cancel?

It probably is. But what is he going to do?
Just sit here and listen to them discuss Facebook and Twitter? Aren't they
supposed to be talking about atheism?

"Should we start the meeting?" Hat
Boy asks.

"Yes," Dennis says.

The five kids look at him, waiting.

"Yes," he says again.

They
look at each other, then at the floor.

Then Purple Hair says. "Well, I'll start
if no one else wants to."

"Okay," Dennis says.

"Well," she says. "I like how
you titled the meeting. Atheists Still Standing.  Because in this new age, it's not easy
to….Well, it's easy to feel lost."

"New Age?" Mustache says with a
slight snicker.

Purple Girl smiles and shrugs her shoulders.
"You know what I mean."

Curly Blond says, "I used to not believe
in any spiritual stuff.  No
afterlife. No ESP. No God. No angels."

"And now?" Hat Boy says.

Dennis wants to go home.

Curly Blond sighs. "I don't know. It's
hard to deny the evidence. I've read a lot about it, including science
journals, and—"

"Science hasn't proven any of it,"
Mustache interrupts.

"True.  But they haven't disproved any of
it."

"You can't disprove things," Mustache
says.

"You can't disprove whole theories…like
does God exist," Curly Blond says. "But you can prove that the
disembodied voice you're hearing is a recording. You can prove results from an
ESP test are not statistically significant."

"I get your point," Mustache says.

"Me too," Purple Hair adds.

"The thing is no one has been able to
prove that the video messages are faked."

"Give them time," Mustache says.

"Yes," Dennis says, surprised to hear
his own voice. He hadn't planned on saying anything.

"I don't know if they will,"
Curly Blond says. "It's stubborn not to at least consider the idea they
might be real."

"So you believe?" Hat Boy asks.

"I didn't say that," Curly Blond
looks annoyed. "I'm just saying it's good to have an open-mind." Then
she looks at Dennis. "Have you talked to any of the dead people?"

"Allegedly dead people," Mustache
corrects her.

"Fine," Curly Blond says. "Have
you talked to any allegedly dead
people."

"No," Dennis says.

"I have," she says. "I talked to
my cousin who was killed in a hurricane years ago."

Dennis looks at this watch. When can he close
the meeting?

"How can someone fake that?  How did they know my cousin died? I mean
who's doing this?  Is it some kind
of mass hoax? To me, it seems very improbable."

"Just because something is improbable
doesn't mean it's not true," Mustache says. "You talk about having an
open-mind, but it looks like yours is already made up."

Curly Blond glares at him.

"Relax, guys." Hat Boy says.

"What do you believe?" Curly Blond
asks Hat Boy.

"Well…to use your words, I'm
open-minded.  Or I try to be. I
don't believe in God.  So, I think
that fits with the term atheist.  I
don't believe in deities.  From what
I've read, there's no strong evidence of there being gods in any of this. That
doesn't mean there isn't a God or a million Gods. There could be a spaghetti
God. Maybe Stephen Colbert is God. Who knows.  As for life after death, it seems after
all the anecdotal evidence, that it's probable. To think otherwise…well, I
think it's no better than a Christian ignoring evidence of evolution. So I
probably believe in life after death.
Do I believe in angels?  No,
not really. I don't believe in demons or vampires.  I don't believe in all this Arcide
crap."

Arcide?
What's that?

Dennis
decides he doesn't need to know.

Hat Boy looks at Dennis. "What do you
think, Sir?"

"It's...." He doesn't know what to
say.

"Don't be shy." Purple Hair
says.  "I mean it's okay if
you're shy.  But I mean you can talk
to us. If you want."

Dennis finds himself smiling a little, which
embarrasses him. He forces the smile to stop. "Well..."  He takes a deep breath. "I might
not know what I'm thinking." What an old fool. To his surprise, none of
the kids laugh at him.  Not even a
snicker.

"It's hard," Curly Blond says. No one
there speaks up to disagree.

"My parents think I'm delusional,"
Mustache  says. "Ironic,
because I used to think that of them."

"You don't anymore?" Hat Boy asks.

"No," I still do."

They all laugh, even Dennis.

"You want to know what I think?"
Purple Hair asks.

"Yes," Dennis says.

"Well, I still consider myself an atheist,
as I did before all of this. That's not to say I haven't changed a lot.  I used to not-believe very strongly. Now
my disbelief’s rather weak. But to me, whether I believe in life after death is
inconsequential. I've come to realize that for me atheism is not about belief
or lack of belief.  It's not about
proving or disproving. In the heart of it, it's never been about any of
that." She stops. Maybe to make sure everyone is listening?

"So what is it?" Hat Boy asks.

"To me, it's about appreciating
life—what we have here. You know what I mean? Why should we care so much
about supernatural stuff when the natural is….well,
it's super enough." She laughs at her own joke.  Dennis smiles. She continues.   I don't talk to dead people on my
cell phone. I talk to the living.
If there's life after death, and it looks like that's likely, I'll talk
to those people when I die."

"I like that way of thinking," Hat
Boys says.

"Thanks." And she goes on. "I
like to read novels about doctors and teachers and lawyers, and homeless people
who are struggling.  I'd rather read
that than books about vampires.
Harry Potter's really cool, but you know…if you watch the movies.  Well, I think the real magic comes from
the Muggles.  JK Rowling. The
directors. The make-up artists. The CGI. Green screen stuff.  Look at all we can do as human
beings.  And if you think about how
far we've come."

"Look at Minecraft," Hat Boy says.

"Totally!" Purple Hair says.  "It's totally magic. All the coding
and mods. It's amazing what all these people have done.  But none of it is supernatural or hocus
pocus."

"What's Minecraft?" Dennis asks.

The kids all look at each other and laugh.

"Man, we gotta get you on Minecraft."
Mustache says.

"Bring your laptop next time," Hat
Boy says.  "We'll get you set
up."

"I don't have a laptop," Dennis says,
and in a small way, he regrets that.

"You can also play on your phone. Or your tablet."

Dennis shakes his head, embarrassed.

The kids exchange looks again.

"Wow," Hat Boy says.  "What are you? Amish?"

"Are you afraid dead people are going to
call you?" Purple Hair asks.
Dennis shrugs his shoulders.

"Don't
worry," she says.  "I get
it. I don't answer my Skype or phone unless I recognize the number and
name."

"I'm the same," Curly Blond
says.

"There's no dead people on
Minecraft." Mustache says. "I mean allegedly dead people."

"There might be," Curly Blond says.
"I've heard rumors about things happening."

"Yeah," Hat Boy says. "But
that's on multiplayer. Single Player's safe."

"Herobrine...." Purple Hair
says.

Dennis has no idea what they're talking about,
but then realizes he doesn't mind listening to them.

Chapter
Forty-Three

GAINESVILLE-Jessica
sits across from Frankie at his favorite Reggae restaurant.  It's her first time being here, and he's
overeager to share the experience.

She's still disappointed by his gayness, but
she's surviving.

The first hurdle crossed was admitting to him
that she was disappointed.

For the first few days, things were
uncomfortable. Denial did nothing for their friendship. Then she cried in front
of him and told him why.

She worried a little bit that he'd be mad or
not understand.

But that's not what happened. He said,
"How can I not understand? I've crushed on guys who are not gay. It's sort
of the same thing."

"Did you tell them?" Jessica asked.

"Well, one. He was one of my close
friends. The other was Simon Helberg, so it isn’t
like I'd get the opportunity."

"Why?" Jessica asked.

He laughed. "Do you know who that
is?"

"No?"

"He's an actor.  From The
Big Bang Theory."

"The one who's kind of autistic?"
She's watched the show a few times.

"No, the Jewish one with interesting belt
buckles."

"Really?  That one?"

He laughs.
"I thought....Well, I still
think he's kind of hot. But my chances with him are slim."

"Probably," she says.

They had both laughed.

"So, how did your friend react?"

"He was totally cool with it. Well, he
knew I was gay way before that, but he didn't know I was attracted to him. When
I finally told him, he said he was relieved.  He was actually kind of hurt that I
didn't like him in that way."

"Oh."

"And just the same, if you weren't
attracted to me. I'd be totally offended."

That was all about a week and a half ago. Since
then, Jessica familiarity with The Big
Bang Theory has been advanced, and she's feeling more okay around
Frankie.

"What should I order?" she asks.

"Anything your beautiful Aussie heart
desires."

"What are you getting?" she asks.

"I'm trying to decide between the jerk
chicken sandwich and the goat. I like eating exotic animals."

"Goats aren't exactly exotic," she
says.

"True," he says. "But eating
them is. Sort of."

She doesn't argue with that. She looks back at
the menu. Everything's a lot more costly than the ramen noodles she had been
eating earlier this summer. She's been splurging a bit too much lately. She
should look for something on the menu that's light in price.

She decides to go for the chicken wings, the
ones with the tropical sauce. Just four wings. Which is not really enough for
her. She hopes Frankie doesn't pig out on his own meal, and has some leftovers
to share. He usually does.

When the waitress comes to take their order,
she asks Jessica if she'd like some breadsticks with the order. Jessica has a
hard time saying no. But then Frankie orders some hush puppy things to go along
with his goat. He promises her one. She accepts.

While waiting for the food, they talk about
their ghosts.

Frankie talks about how his mother's seeing
someone on the other side, and that it's hurting his dad quite a lot. "The
thing is—my mom and this other guy. They've been married before in other
lives. They're kind of soulmates. I think my dad feels now that the thing he
had with my mom was just a fling."

"That's rough," she says.

"I feel for him." He sighs.

She
talks about Jesse.  She hears from
him much less these days. "I used to talk to him almost every day. Now
it's like every three days. Or less than that. And he usually wants to talk
about Taylor."

"How's she doing?" he asks.

"Better. I think. She kind of goes back
and forth. Normal for awhile. Then she'll go back on a crazy strict diet.  Jesse had to talk her out of drinking
this laxative tea. He spends a lot of time with her."

Their food arrives. Jessica's four chicken
wings look minuscule next to Frankie's huge meal, which includes
not only goat, but also rice, cabbage, and plantains. Frankie offers to
trade some of his food for one of her wings.  She agrees, and gets much more out of
the bargain than he does.

Chapter
Forty-Four

LONDON-Bernard and
Arthur hug and kiss good-bye at Heathrow, near security.  People stare, but no one's intrusive
enough to ask for Bernard's autograph. Arthur appreciates that. He also
appreciates the fact that tears are streaming down Bernard's face. Of course,
Arthur has tears as well.

"I'm going to miss you so much,"
Bernard says and squeezes him tight.

"I'll probably be home way too soon,"
Arthur says in a self-deprecating way.

"For selfish reasons, I hope so.  But for you. And me. Oh. Well, I do
think you're going to get the part. If they're smart. If not, it's their loss.
You know. All that stuff."

Arthur nods. It's hard to talk without outright
bawling.

They kiss again, in a manner that oversteps
their usual PDA parameters.

Then it's time for Arthur to get in line.

* * *

At the gate, Arthur thinks about his family. He
doesn't look forward to seeing any of them. Especially, not his dad.  But he's not excited about seeing his
mom or sisters either. He does love them.
It's just he's not in the mood for them. Nor is he in the mood for
Atlanta, or anything American.

He's in the mood for Bernard and his life in
London.

He looks at the people around him, wondering
which are English, which are American, and which are none of the above. Who's
going on a holiday? Who's ending a holiday?  Who's leaving home?  Who's going home?

A woman meets his eyes when he looks at
her.  He smiles. She doesn't smile
back. It makes him feel lonely.

* * *

In the coach section, Arthur tries to sleep,
but he can't. He's too uncomfortable. He hates himself for wishing he was in
first class or business. Here, he hates that his father bought him airline
tickets, yet at the same time, he's annoyed that he wasn't given a higher class
of travel.

On the bright side, he's not sitting by any
young children. Also, his seat mate is friendly, but not overly chatty. He
doesn't laugh too loud while watching movies, which Arthur appreciates.

Arthur turns on his seat light and rummages
through his backpack. He pulls out a printout of the script segment the casting
director had emailed him. The character he's auditioning for is Edward Nichols,
the brother of April Nichols, who supposedly was the first ghost to reach out
to the living.

He reads the lines in his head. It has Edward
talking to his girlfriend.

EDWARD

I
feel I'm being punished for my mistakes.
Maybe

it's
the devil that's after me.  Am I
crazy?

KELLY

I
think we all have times where we wonder if we're crazy. Such is life.

EDWARD

What
would you do if you were me?

KELLY

I
would talk to my girlfriend.

EDWARD

Thank
you...What do you think? Do you think it could really be her?

KELLY

I'm
not sure it matters what I think.

Arthur
likes the script, or at least the small bit he's seen. He hates to think how
he'll feel when the movie comes out, and as his luck goes, he won't be in
it.  In the past, he's had a hard
time supporting films and TV shows that he's auditioned for.  He'll see the trailer at the theater,
and he feels the whole cast and crew is sticking their noses up at him saying,
Ha ha! You didn't get to be part of this!"

* * *

Arthur sleeps, but not for long. That's
probably okay, because then he'll sleep better at night when he gets to
Atlanta.

The plane lands at 7:30

As they wait to taxi to the gate, Arthur texts
Bernard, even though he was told to FaceTime him. But it's 1:30 am in London,
and Bernard has to get up early for work.

As soon as he sends the text, his phone rings.
He answers the FaceTime call.

"I told you to call me!" Bernard
says.

"I know," Arthur says. "I didn't
want to wake you."

"I'm not asleep. I've been waiting to hear
from you." So incredibly wonderful.

"I love you," Arthur says.

"Love you too," Bernard says.
"Give your family my love".

"I will." Arthur yawns.

"Did you sleep enough?"

"No," Arthur admits.

"Well, on that note—I'm going to get
some sleep."

"Okay. Love you, Monkey Butt."

"You too, Skunk."

Arthur's heart melts into gooey mushiness.  After a minute more of good-byes, he
puts his phone away.  He notices
then that his seat companion has been Skyping. Arthur can hear the voice of the
person on the other end. It's a little girl or boy. He sneaks a look at the
screen. It's a girl. Long blond hair.
He can't tell if she's a ghost or not.

The seat belt light turns off. Neither Arthur
nor his seat companion stand. There's no point. They’re too far in the back for
it to matter yet.

The seat companion ends his conversation.
Arthur smiles at him in that way you smile at parents who so obviously love
their kids. He smiles back at Arthur. "Do you have children?"

"Not yet."

"You're young," the man says.

"How old is your…."  No.
Oops.  Maybe it's not a good
idea to ask that.

"She was five," he says. "It
happened two years ago."

Arthur nods. What do you say in situations like
this. "I'm sorry" was the standard in the
past, and back then it seemed weak. Now it's both weak, and maybe also
inappropriate.

"Cystic Fibrosis. A very bad case. Most
kids live much longer these days. Her sister has it and is doing great."

Arthur has no idea what to say. He just sits
there like a useless lump.

His seat companion kindly changes the
conversation. "Were you in London for a vacation?"

" No," Arthur says. "I live
there with my husband.  I'm visiting
my family."

"Oh," the seat companion says.  "I see."

Did the husband thing make him
uncomfortable?  Arthur thinks he saw
something in the man's eyes, but maybe he just imagined it.

"Well, enjoy your visit with your
family." The seat companion stands. The line's
moving now.

"Thanks. You too.  I mean…Were you on holiday?"

"Work conference," the man says, then
redirects his attention to the overhead compartment.

As Arthur gets his own stuff, he continues to
wonder whether or not he had been sitting by a homophobic. Was he being
oversensitive?  Imagining
things?  Did the guy become less
friendly when he talked about having a husband, or was Arthur misinterpreting things?

Maybe the guy was quiet because he was thinking
about his daughters. And it's not as if he outright rejected or attacked
Arthur.

He decides not to worry about it.

* * *

His whole family's waiting for him in baggage
claim. His
mom and dad hold each other's hands.

Zoe's texting someone and doesn't see him until
he's only a few feet away.
Taylor's smiling
in what seems to be a mixture of happiness and embarrassment.  He hugs her first.  She's very bony.

"Me next," Zoe says.  She puts her phone in her purse and
gives Arthur a huge squeeze. Then suddenly, he's incredibly happy to see
them.  He starts to cry. Zoe cries
too. Taylor's next.  His mom doesn’t
cry, but she nudges Zoe away so she can get her hug.

Arthur looks up at his dad, and his dad's
crying too. This makes Arthur cry even more, and he feels guilty for the fights
they've had lately; maybe even for all the fights they've had throughout life.

"It's so nice to have you home," his
mom says.

"It is," his dad agrees. Arthur looks
at each of them, and they look at him. Taylor giggles a little. Then there're
more tears all around.

As they walk to the carousel, Arthur pinches
Taylor arms. "You really are way too thin."

"And this is after gaining a few
pounds," Zoe gives Taylor a stern look.

"You're doing okay though?"

"Yeah," Taylor says.

"She's eating dinner tonight. Or she knows
I'm going to strangle her. Speaking of. Are you up for eating? Dad made
reservations for Chinese."

"Sounds good," Arthur says. Then,
standing between his sisters, he waits for his luggage. Their parents have gone
to get the car.

* * *

It's surreal sitting in the back seat of the
car with his two sisters. He feels if he snaps his fingers, they'll be children
again heading out for their traditional Sunday dinner.  Funny, because it's Sunday today.

Although back then they weren't usually texting
on their smartphones, which both Zoe and Taylor are doing now.

Taylor types something, and then giggles.
Arthur catches her eye, and she blushes.

"Who're you talking to?" he asks.

"Nobody," she says.

"Well, that's a new one," Arthur
says.  I thought it was amazing
enough that we could talk to dead people.
But now you can actually talk to the nobodies.

"It is pretty amazing," Zoe says.

Taylor gets another text. She reads it and
laughs.

"Let me just ask this," Zoe says.
"Is he in the car with us?  Or
she?"

"No comment," Taylor says.  She's really blushing.  Arthur's glad to see her happy.

"What's going on back there?" their
mother asks.

"I'm still trying to figure that
out."  Arthur says.

* * *

At the restaurant, Arthur again sits between
his two sisters. Their father dominates the conversation. He talks about his
connection to the director of the film and requests that Arthur "manage
his expectations".  "I got
you the audition, but I can't guarantee you'll get a part.  Acting's very competitive, as you know.
But if all else fails, at least we got to have this family reunion. I for one
am very thankful we're all here together."

"Let's do a toast!"  Zoe chimes in.  She lifts her glass of water, and the
others follow.

Next, their father talks at length about his
big project. "By next year, we'll sit here at the restaurant and see both
living and dead together.  No more
depending on phones."

Arthur notices that Zoe looks uncomfortable, as
if she wants to say something, but doesn't have the guts to say it. "What
do you get out of it?" Arthur asks.
He's curious. His father's doing all this. Is it just to better the
world, or will he get rewarded in some way? His father may claim to be
altruistic, but there's usually something he gets.  An article in the paper. An award to
hang on the wall. A call from a celebrity.

"Just good old satisfaction," his dad
says beaming.  "The world's
going to change forever, and I get to play a huge part. It's a humbling
experience." Arthur hates when people call an experience humbling, when
actually, it's the exact opposite. No, it's not humbling to win an Oscar.  Failing at ten auditions in a row?  Now that's
humbling.

"Dad?" Zoe says. Arthur looks at
her.  She really does look
nervous.  It's not his imagination.

"Yes?"

"There's something I need to tell you.
Well, I have lots of things to tell you. I was going to tell you earlier this
week, but then I decided it's better to wait until Arthur's here."

"Thanks," Arthur says, feeling
nervous for her and this news.

"Go ahead," their dad
says. "I'm all ears."

"Well, there's someone I want you guys to
meet."

"Okay," their dad says.

"Maybe in a couple of minutes.  Well, after...."

They all wait.

"I have a boyfriend."

"Great!" Arthur says, though he's a
little hurt that he's just hearing about it now.

Awesome!" Taylor says.

"That's wonderful, Sweetie," their
mother says.

"A boyfriend?" their dad says.  "You mean a friend that happens to
be a boy."

Zoe laughs. "No. A real boyfriend. A
boyfriend boyfriend."

"What about Mickey?" their dad asks.

"We broke up!" Zoe's glee is
partially replaced by obvious annoyance.

"I thought you were just taking a
break," their father says.

"No," Zoe says.  "It's over."

"I think you should think about
that," their father says.

Arthur has a hard time believing what he's
hearing. But he tries to keep his cool. They don't need a scene the very first
night they're all together.

With that, the waiter comes over to take their
orders. None of them have really looked at their menus.

"Do we need more time?" their father
asks.

Yes, they all agree.

The waiter smiles and walks away.

They open their menus and read.

"Why don't I just order for
everyone," their father says. "I think I know what everyone
likes."

Everyone agrees that this is fine.  Arthur doesn't like the way his father
takes control, but all the same, he figures what his father orders will be
okay.

The waiter comes over minutes later and takes
the order.

When he leaves, they sit quietly for a short
moment. Then their father starts to talk about how Joker Jenson’s might dive
into the whole Asian condiment thing.

They listen without much comment.

Then Zoe says, "Can I tell you about my boyfriend
now?"

"Yes!"  Taylor says.  "I want to know."

"Me too," their mother says.
"Tell all."

"Well…" Zoe says, blushing.
"I've known him for a very long time. A very long time."

"The pediatrician!" Arthur says.

Zoe laughs. "No."

"Who is it?" their father asks,
looking slightly uneasy.

"His name's Keith."

"And how did you meet him?"  their mother
asks.

"In my dreams." She's blushing.

"What?" Arthur and Taylor say at the
exact same time. Taylor looks at him, and they both smile. Then they turn their
attention back to Zoe. What in the world does she mean?

"What are you talking about?" their
father asks. He seems tense, maybe worried.

"He's an OS. And an EB."

"You can't be both," their father
says.

"Well, he is. He's like you.
Powerful."

"And they can't go into dreams,"
their father says.

"Well, they can," their mother
says.  "But it's rare."

"Keith's powerful that way too. We see
each other every night."  She
blushes again.  Arthur trusts her
not to go TMI.  "We knew each
other before this all happened.  He
started visiting me when I was a teenager.
I thought I was crazy, but now I know I'm not."

"I think this whole thing is crazy." Their father's looking
more and more tense. Arthur doesn't get it.  Isn't he the one who's trying to open up
more connections between the living and dead?

"I have a dead boyfriend too!" Taylor
blurts out.

They all turn and stare at her. Now she's the
one blushing.

"Really?"  Zoe says. "That's wonderful,
Taylor!"  She reaches across
Arthur and squeezes Taylor's hand.
Sister power.

"Should I feel left out?" Arthur
jokes. "And I thought I was special for dating a British guy."

"I can't support this," their father
says. They all stare at him, confused.

"Why?" their mother asks.

"Why?" he asks. "Do you support
this?"

"Well—"

He doesn't let her finish. "It's wonderful
that we can talk to the dead.  Of
course, I support that. It's because of me that we're taking a thousand steps
forward.  But we weren't meant to
have romantic relationships with them. It's unnatural." He looks off into
space. He has that look, the one they've all seen before, the one where he's
struggling not to explode.

"Honey," their mother says.  "I think we need to look at this in
a—"

"No!" he snaps.  He bangs his hand on the table.  People at other tables turn around.

Then their father whispers angrily.  "This is sicker than gay...."
He stops himself.

Arthur feels his stomach churning.  "Sicker than what?"

"I didn't mean—"

"What did you mean?" Arthur demands.

"Don't you dare accuse me of anything. You know I have always supported you and
Bernard."

"Have you?" Arthur asks, his voice
trembling.

"Let's not overreact," their mother
says.

Taylor starts crying.

They hear a phone vibrate.

"Who's phone is that?" their mother
asks.

"I think it's
Taylor's," Zoe says, pointing to the phone that sits on the table next to
Taylor's purse.

"Are you going to get it?" their
mother says.

Taylor shakes her head.

"Let's try to calm down," their father
says. "And have a nice dinner."

"I want to know what you mean about gay
marriage."

"I said, let's drop it. You know I support
gay marriage."

"Then what were you saying before?" Arthur asks.  He's not going to let his father off the
hook so easily.

"I am 100% fine with gay marriage. If you
don't want to believe that, you're a fool. But I'm not going to sit here and
try to prove it to you." He looks at Zoe. "But neither am I going to
pretend that I support dating dead people. Sue me for wanting my girls to have
healthy normal relationships with homes and children."  He gives them a warm fatherly smile.
"I want grandchildren!"

"Arthur can give you
grandchildren."  Zoe says.

"Yes, but—" their father says.
"No.  Yeah. He can give me
grandchildren.  And that's
wonderful. I look forward to it." He turns to Arthur with an annoying
level of newfound cheerfulness
"Any news on that front?"

"No," Arthur says. He's still peeved
about the gay comment, but is trying not to be.

Taylor's phone vibrates again.   This time she reads it and responds.

"It's my boyfriend," she says
quietly. "He wants to know if he can meet you guys."

"Sure!" Zoe says.

Arthur and their mom agree as well.

"Let's do it," their dad says, then
forces a smile.

Taylor's beaming and blushing as she waits for
the call. She answers, and then lifts her phone so they can all see him.  He's wearing a long-sleeved blue V-neck
shirt.

"Family…this is Jesse.  Jesse, this is my family."

"Hello there!" he says in an accent
that's almost as sexy as Bernard's. "Things got fairly intense just now.
You guys are full of exciting drama.
I'm thrilled to be a part of it."

Arthur looks at his father to see his
reaction.  He doesn't seem to be
much of a fan.

Chapter
Forty-Five

MANHATTAN-It's been
eight nights since their wedding, and two nights since
Anna moved out of the apartment. She's gone to live with a friend until she can
get a place of her own.

Eugene misses her.

For the first few days, he started to believe
that maybe things could work out, after all. Even though there had been no sex.
No honeymoon.

But there had also been no fighting.

They got along.

They laughed together.

They even downloaded their wedding song and
danced to it in the apartment. Finally, after all these years, they had
themselves a song. And now it was all over. All for nothing.

"It's for the best," she had said.

Eugene knows that Anna's probably right.

But it still hurts.

* * *

Tonight he decides to sleep on the couch. It's
too hard to sleep on the bed when one side's empty.

On the couch, he falls asleep right away.

He dreams he's at a hotel, wandering through
the lobby, desperately looking for something.

When he wakes up in the middle of the night to
pee, he has an idea.

He goes back to sleep feeling hopeful.

When he wakes up in the morning, it's with less
enthusiasm.

The idea was good in theory, but he has neither
the money nor the resources to make it work.

* * *

Later Eugene walks to Shake Shack for lunch, but
once he gets there, he realizes he's not hungry. He's too poor to spend money
on expensive food he's not much in the mood for eating.

So, he finds a place on the grass, and just
sits there. He feels awkward though, because everyone else around him has a
friend, book, or opened laptop. He has nothing, but his clothes and wallet, as
if he had planned to come here to meditate.

He should get up and leave, but he's too lazy
to move.

Eventually though, he gathers up enough energy
to stand and walk home.

* * *

When he gets back to the apartment, he does
something he's never done before. He calls Sebastian on Skype.  It's always been that Sebastian's the
one to call Eugene. Not Vice versa.

Sebastian answers on the first ring, and he
sounds very pleased to have gotten a call.

"How have you been?"  Eugene asks.

"I was away.  Did you notice?" Sebastian asks.
"I was visiting my parents. I just got back, actually."

"Oh!" It's been forever since Eugene
has seen Mr. and Mrs. King. "How are they?"

"They're good. They have grandchildren
now."

"Great," Eugene says. He wonders if
Sebastian has visited them before. Is this the first time? It's funny he's
never asked.

"Three boys. My younger sister's. Do you
remember her?"

He doesn't.

Or maybe he does. Now that he thinks of it.
There was a baby. Mrs. King was overprotective. The neighbors whispered about
it. Though who could blame her?

"I might go back there for awhile,
Eugene."  Sebastian says.
"But I’ll visit you."

Is everyone going to abandon him?  "Thanks," he says.

Sebastian takes a glance around the
apartment.  "Anna's at
work?"

"Yes," he says, not wanting to say
more.  But then he feels compelled.
"She moved out."

"I guess that's good," Sebastian
says. "You guys really hated each other." He laughs.

Eugene forces a smile.

"I better go," Sebastian says. “I
just wanted to check and see how you were. Funny—you called right when I
arrived. I guess that proves we have a special bond.

"Maybe" Eugene says. To his surprise,
a tiny part of him is not disturbed by this.

"Good luck to you."

"You too."

"Take care."

"You too." Sebastian waves, winks,
and then disappears.

* * *

Eugene decides to go through with his
plan.

It won't work as well as he wants. But he feels
he has to do something.

He goes through the pile of papers on the
coffee table and finds the wedding guest list. To his relief, it has email
addresses.

He calls Anna and tells her he needs to talk to
her about the divorce. It's important. Can she come over tomorrow night? To his
surprise, she says yes. What's strange is she uses the friendly voice he used
to hear her use with other people, the one so different from the exasperated
one she's used with him the past year or so.

After he talks to Anna, he emails all locals on
the wedding guest list, and also Anna's parents.

He asks all of them to come over tomorrow
night, and also asks them to bring a dish. It's going to be potluck,

Then he gets to work with PowerPoint.

* * *

He finishes with his PowerPoint presentation by
evening.

He checks his email. No one has RSVP'd. He writes everyone again, and essentially begs them
to come.

Finally, he starts to hear from people.

By midnight, fifteen out of the forty people he
has invited say yes. They'll be there.

* * *

In the morning, five more people have said
yes.  Eugene starts to fear they
won't fit all fit into the apartment. And what if more say yes?

Shit.

Oh
well. They'll manage.

He
goes to the store and buys some beer, soda, bottles of
water, chips, salsa, and some peanut butter M&M's.

For the next few hours, he cleans the
apartment.  He vacuums, sweeps,
dusts, and makes good use of the bottle of Windex they usually ignored.

* * *

At six-thirty, the guests start to arrive.  Most of them haven't brought food as he
asked, and out of the few that did, only about three dishes look appetizing.

Fine. That's fine.

It will have to do.

Anna's parents arrive with frosted cookies, obviously
from a bakery. He sets them down on the counter with the other food. It's
probably good that most people ignored the food request, because he'd probably
have to start placing food on the floor.

* * *

A guest uses the bathroom. She comes out and
whispers something to another guest.
Eugene overhears part of it. Something about a toothbrush. Why is there
only one?  Someone else says,
"Haven't you heard?  Anna's
moved out already.”

Eugene stands there awkwardly, not talking to
anyone, even though he's the one that invited them over.  Soon, Anna's mother comes over. "We
just heard, Eugene!"

"Oh," he says.  "Sorry."

"I don't know who's to blame," she
says. "But I hope you can work things out."

An elderly guest buds into the
conversation.  "Well, at least
he's reaching out. Having this party. Trying to win her back."

"Oh, is this what this is about?"
Anna's mother asks.

"Well…."

"It's very romantic," the elderly
guest says.

"That's not exactly what I was
planning," Eugene says, but none one is listening.

The door opens. It's Anna. She looks at all the
guests with confusion and surprise. Then her eyes meet Eugene's.  They’re full of a million
questions.

He walks to the door and takes her hand.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi.
What's all this?"

"You'll see."  Gently, he leads her to the couch. It's
fully occupied. Being polite as possible, Eugene asks if one of them can move
so Anna can sit down.

"You don't have to do that," Anna
says.

They all move anyway.

"Please sit."

She sits. Now she has the whole couch to
herself.

"Stay," Eugene says.

Anna laughs. "I'm not a dog."

"Right," he says.  He walks to the bedroom and grabs his
laptop.

He walks to where there's a space in the room
and says. "Hello.  Can I have
your attention?

No, he can't.  No one hears him…except maybe Anna.  The guests keep talking. He repeats
himself. This time, Anna's father hears. He takes charge and gets everyone to
quiet down.

Everyone looks at him, and Eugene realizes this
was a huge mistake. He's going to embarrass himself, and Anna.

Well, too late now to back down.

"Uh…Well.  A few weeks ago my lovely fiancé…no,
wife…she was honored for being one of the top female entrepreneurs in the city.
It was a huge honor, but I was an ass and didn't show up on time."  He looks at Anna and mouths,
“Sorry."  Her eyes fill with
tears.

"So I wanted…well, this is my small way of
making things up to her. It's not much, and I'm probably making things
worse.  But I wanted to at least
try."

Eugene opens up his laptop and apologizes for
not having a big enough screen. Then he starts the PowerPoint presentation that
honors his wife's career.

When it's over, she gets up, takes the laptop
from him, puts it down on the coffee table, and gives him a hug.

He likes holding her.

* * *

After the party, she offers to help him clean
up.

He refuses.  It wouldn't be right for her to help.

When they say good-bye, he asks if maybe they
can have lunch together sometime.

"Probably," she says. "We'll
see."

Chapter
Forty-Six

ATLANTA-Zoe sits on
her couch with Arthur.  He's
furious, and she's trying her best to provide sisterly love and support.

What happened is he went to the audition in the
afternoon. There he learned the role he was
auditioning for had already been cast —weeks ago. They had a smaller part
that they said might work for Arthur. It was already cast as well, but the
actor had been arrested for a DUI, and they worried it might look bad if they
hired him. They told Arthur they'd let him know in a few days. And if all else
fails, they'll happily keep his headshot and resume on file for future
reference.

"Not only that," Arthur says.
"But it was humiliating. They made it obvious that I was only getting the
audition because of dad. You know what one of them said?  She said,  'I can't imagine having a father who'd
do so much for me.'”

Zoe's not sure if the woman meant it as an
insult, or if it was a statement of envy. Either way, Zoe understands her
brother's anger. It's one thing to have a father who does things for you. It's
another to have one who says he's done something, and doesn't give you the full
story.

"He's a liar," Arthur says. "And
that thing he said about gay marriage."

"What do you think he meant by that?"
she asks.

"I have no idea.  You?"

She shakes her head. That's the only answer
she's capable of giving. She honestly can't defend him.

He kicks the bottom of the sofa with his heel,
something he used to do when he was young.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"Thanks. And thanks for listening."

"Would it be bad for me to say I'm glad
you came home anyway?"

He gives her a small smile. "No. I'm glad
to be here—at least to see you and Taylor."

"And Mom?"

He gives a noncommittal shrug. "I
suppose."

In the silence that follows, she wonders if this
is a good time to introduce him to Keith. She wanted to do it a few nights ago,
but never had the chance.

"I wish you had seen what happened at
dinner yesterday."

"What?" Zoe asks.

Dad picked up pizza and salads.

"And?"

"Well, Taylor gets herself a slice."

"Good!"

"You know what Mom said?"  Zoe waits.  "She said. So I guess you're off
your diet."

"What?" That's the last thing Taylor
needs, people making a big deal of her eating normally.

"That's not the worst of it."

"Shit," Zoe says, waiting for the
punchline. If you can call it that."

Dad said, “Well, just makes sure you leave
enough for the rest of us."

"Oh my God," Zoe says.  "What did Taylor do?  Did you say anything?"

"It's a miracle I didn't kill dad,"
Arthur says. "I should get an award for self-restraint."

Speaking of killing their father, Zoe should
probably tell him....

"Then he laughed, and said her diet had
been good for his wallet."

Zoe shakes her head, not wanting to believe
what she's hearing.  Arthur
continues. "I then said, how is it you paid for my plane tickets, but you
complain about buying food for your daughter?"

"How was Taylor through all this?"

"Quiet, but not crying. And she didn't try
to put the pizza back."

"Good."

"Then, mom says it's too bad I don't have
a sense of humor. I need to loosen up and understand when dad's joking."

"Because they're so hilarious," Zoe
says. She sighs. "It's a miracle we came out okay."

"Did we?" Arthur says. "Look at
Taylor. And I'm a failure." He looks at Zoe. "I guess you came out
okay. Did you?" He looks at her as if waiting for a confession of a mental
breakdown.

"I work at a job my dad got for me,"
Zoe says. "I can't say I'm overly proud of that."

"Is it their fault or our fault?  Or are we all to blame?"

"It's actually mostly my fault," Zoe
says.

Arthur laughs and she laughs along, although
she was being kind of serious.  She
decides to tell him some of the stuff she's learned.  Starting with....

"What do you know about
reincarnation?"

* * *

She tells him about their father being her
daughter Bessie, and how Arthur was Bessie's brother. To Zoe's surprise, it
doesn't take him long to believe.

"I still despise him," Arthur says.
"It doesn't matter. And maybe she was a little bratty show off back then,
and that's why you ignored her.

"She was my daughter," Zoe says.
"I still should have—."

He laughs.
"Do you actually feel guilty?"

"Sort of," she says sheepishly.

He bops her on the head.

"So when can I meet your dream boy?

"Now, maybe." She's eager for the two
of them to meet.

"Okay."

"And there's more we have to tell
you."

"Is it as funny as the reincarnation
stuff?"  Arthur asks.

"Well…yes," Zoe says.  "If you have a really dark sense of
humor."

She picks her laptop up off the floor and puts
it on her lap.  She opens up
FaceTime and calls for Keith.

He answers, looking as hot as ever.

"Hi Dad!" Arthur says.

Keith laughs. "I guess Zoe's been running
her mouth again."

"So, did she tell you what my sister said
at dinner the other night?"

"Taylor?" Keith says.

"No," Zoe says. "I think he's
still talking about our old life."

"You guys are confusing me," Keith
says.  "So this is about the
gay marriage comment?"

"Yeah," Arthur says.

"The guy has some issues," Keith
says. Zoe had told Keith after it happened, and she liked that he hadn't tried
to defend her father.

"You can say that," Arthur says.

Zoe decides it might be time to tell him about
the Arcide stuff.  Should she try to
explain it, or let Keith?

Maybe she'll explain it.

No, Keith would do a better job with it.

She's about to ask Keith to tell the story, but
then finds that while she was deciding, Keith and Arthur have gotten into a conversation
about acting. They're laughing, and seem to be really clicking.  Zoe hates to interrupt, and she decides,
what's the point?  Does he really
need to know about the Arcide and their father?   Their dad is young and in good
health. Yeah, he might get hit by a bus or choke on a peanut, but it's not like
they could do any more to stop it than they could if there dad was a normal guy
who didn't hold the fate of the world in his hands.

She lets her brother and boyfriend go on
talking while she listens.

Then she has an idea, and she interrupts to
share it with her two favorite men. "Let's be good children, and let mom
and dad have an evening alone. I say we go pick up Taylor, and we'll all eat
here."

"Good idea," Keith says. "And
maybe Jesse can join us."

"So you aren't the only dead guy,"
Arthur jokes.

"Yes, I feel so left out."  Keith says. "When I'm around you
living folks."

Chapter
Forty-Seven

Arthur in a great
mood, as they drive down Spalding Drive, on the way to their parent's house to
pick up Taylor. He couldn't care less now about the audition.  He won't forgive his dad, but it's just
another thing to add to his grievances. Despite that though, he is glad he's come home.

It's funny. He never really missed his sisters
in London, but now that he's with them....Well, he's just really happy to be
with them. He should visit more.  Or
better yet.  What if the two of them
move to London?

Their father would have a stroke. That's the
first thing that would happen.

The other thing that's lifted Arthur's mood is
talking to Keith. Truth be told, it's the first substantial conversation he's
had with one of the ghosts. Prior to that, he didn't have much to brag about.
There was the cold awkward conversation with Grandma Cornelia, and sometimes
Bernard's sister would briefly chat with him.  But with Keith...well, this is the first
time he's actually connected with a ghost. Joked with one. It's kind of
thrilling.

He' s brave enough to share his pathetic
feelings with Zoe.

She's very understanding. "You know what's
funny. I felt the same way about gay people. I kept reading about them and
seeing them on TV.  But I never knew
any in real life."

Arthur laughs.

"Then this guy in my class admitted to all
of us, he was gay. I was so excited, like I was meeting a celebrity."

Arthur decides to toy with her. "That's a
bit offensive, Zoe."

She looks at him, stung.  "I'm sorry."

He feels bad. He can't go on with it. "I'm
joking."

"Oh," she says, looking relieved.

"So was this before I came out?"

"A few years before."

"So I bet you were thrilled when it
happened in your own family."

She smiles. "Totally."

They turn down their parent's street. "Did
you ever suspect?"

"No. You were always going on and on about
Alyssa Milano."

"Overcompensating," he explains.
"But I did find her attractive."

"I do too," Zoe says. "And I'm
not a lesbian."

"It's not always black and white," he
says, as she pulls into the driveway.

* * *

They ring the doorbell.

Their father answers. He greets them with his
usual charming enthusiasm. "Taylor's getting
ready.  She'll be down soon. Why
don't you guys come in and sit down."

He and Zoe follow their dad into the living
room.

He offers them something to drink.

No, thanks.

Their mother appears. She gives Zoe and him
kisses on the cheek.

"Are you going out tonight?" Zoe
asks.

"Just out to dinner," she says.

"Have a seat," their father says.
"I want to know about the big audition."

Zoe gives Arthur a quick look.  He's not sure how to interpret it.  Is she saying, don't start a fight, or
is she saying, I give you my full permission to attack?

He decides to be calm, yet honest. "The
part I thought I was auditioning for was already cast."

He wants his father to be apologetic and/or act
surprised. Instead, he gives a wry smile, shrugs his shoulders, and says
"That's the acting business for you.
It's incredibly competitive." Then he makes a face as if he smells
something bad. What’s that all about?

Arthur realizes then that he absolutely hates
his father, and he always will no matter how many
lifetimes they have together. If the roles are reversed, and Arthur’s the
father, he will drown the hideous piece of infant shit in the bathtub. He
starts remembering their past. He can actually see Bessie.  She's an annoying know-it-all who takes
every opportunity to show off.

"Arthur, are you okay?"  It's his mother.  He looks at her. "He hates her as
well.  She's never been a good mother
to him, always taking their father's side.
And why?  She can't love him.
It's all about the money. She likes getting expensive gifts. Fucking gold
digger.

"Arthur?"  Now it's Zoe getting up his ass.  She's no better than her father when it
comes down to it.  How many times
has he wanted her on his side against their dad? She can never stand up for
herself.  She can never stand up for
him. And she just sat there watching Taylor starve to herself to death."

"Arthur!"

He suddenly feels very dizzy. He might be sick.

"What's going on?" It's Taylor. He
looks up and starts trembling.

"What's going on?" Taylor asks.
"Why is his nose bleeding?"

He reaches up and touches the skin underneath
his nose.  He feels the wetness, and
then looks at his hand.  It's full
of blood.

"Oh my God, Arthur."

"I'll go get some Kleenex," their
mother says.  She rushes to the
bathroom and comes back with a handful of tissues.  He thanks her, and holds them to his nose.

"Pinch your nose and lean forward,"
Zoe says.

"Are you okay?" his dad asks.
"You looked like you were about to pass out."

"I'm fine," Arthur says.  But he's not sure if he is."

Chapter
Forty-Eight

Zoe has a hard time
driving home. She wouldn't be surprised if their party tonight includes five
ghosts instead of just two. It's so hard for her to concentrate. She's
terrified. It looked like Arthur was having some type of seizure in there.

He keeps saying he's okay, but she doesn't
believe it. What if he has a brain tumor?

Oh, well. He'll die maybe and become a
ghost.  But poor Bernard. Then
again, she's dating a dead guy.  If
it works for her and Keith, why not Arthur and Bernard?

"Zoe, are you okay? You're a million miles
away."

"I'm fine," she says. "I'm
worried about you."

"I'm fine."

"What was going on with you?  Were you aware of anything?  Do you think it was a seizure?"

"I don't know," Arthur says. "I
do think it was something. But maybe more emotional. I felt all this
hatred."

Hatred?

No….

She looks to him, and then turns around to
check on Taylor. It's  a sudden
instinctive type thing—the need to check on her baby sister.

"Have you heard of the Arcide?" Zoe
asks Arthur.

"No," Arthur says. Then, "Wait.
Oh, yeah. Grandma Cornelia's thing."

"Well, it's not just Grandma's thing.  It's real."

"I've heard of it," Taylor calls out
from the back.

"Well, it goes into people and fills them
with hatred."

"Shit," Arthur says.  "You don't think...."

"I don't know," Zoe says.

Then a creepy horrible sound comes from the
back seat.

Holy crap!
Is that—?

No, it's just Taylor's phone. What the hell
does she have for her ringtone now?

"What is that?"

Taylor misunderstands the question. "Just
Jesse.  Hi! Where have you
been?"

"Hi everyone!" Jesse says.

"What's your ringtone?" Zoe asks.

"Mine?" Jesse says.

"No, Taylor's."

"Theme to American Horror Story."

"What's that?" Zoe asks.

"It's a show," Arthur says.

Zoe's feeling very out of touch with
popular culture.

"So guess what," Jesse says.

"What?" the three of the living say
together.

"I told Jessica about us."

"Who's Jessica?" Arthur asks.

"Taylor's roommate." Ah! She might be
out of touch with TV shows, but at least she knows who their sister lives with
in Florida."

"Oh yeah.  I forgot," Arthur says. Memory
problems?  Is that an Arcide
symptom?

"What did she say? Taylor asks. "Is
she okay with it?"

"She's fine," Jesse says. "I
mean she's fine with it.  The poor
girl's really homesick. I invited her to come here next weekend.  Is that okay?"

Taylor laughs. "Sure."

Zoe sneaks a look back at Taylor to see her
reaction. She looks happy, which makes Zoe happy.

"Keep your eyes on the road," Arthur
says.

"Sorry," Zoe says.  "Are you going to still be
here?" she asks her brother, hoping that he plans to stay awhile.

"Sure," he says. "I'll probably
go home next week sometime. But definitely after the weekend."

"Well, we should all have a party,"
Zoe says. "How about a massive sleepover?"

"I'm so excited," Jesse says in a
falsetto voice. "Can we plait each other's hair and do each other's
nails?"

Ha. He can laugh. But Zoe's excited. The six of them hanging out in her living room.

"Jessica’s bringing her friend too," Jesse says.

"Okay…so it will be seven of
them."

"Frankie?" Taylor says.

"That's the one," Jesse says.
"And he's gay, Arthur.  So you
don't have to feel left out among us heteros."

Arthur laughs.  "Thanks." Then he asks,
"Is this gay friend of the living or dead persuasion?"

"Living now," Jesse says. "But
with the way he drives, probably not for long."

Chapter
Forty-Nine

Jennifer gets the
idea that, with Taylor and Arthur out of the house, she and Philip might have
some special time together. There's something about being in a house alone.
There's so much freedom. Why not take advantage?

She sees him in the living room working on
something, and is about to go up to him and ask if he'd like to take a break.
But then she decides, why not put a little more effort into it.

She goes into the master bedroom and rummages
through the drawers in her closet. She finds a red negligee. It's been forever
since she's worn it. Will it still fit?

She tries it on, and looks at herself in the
mirror.  She wishes she looked
twenty years younger, and was the same size as Taylor. But it's not all bad.

She brushes her hair a bit, and sprays some
perfume on her wrist.

She walks out of the closet, but then returns.
She has an idea.

She puts on black high heels. Men like that.
Don't they?

Walking down the hall, she imagines she's younger
and thinner than the mirror says.

When she gets to the living room, she changes
her walk to, what she hopes, is a sexy one.

Apparently, she's not succeeding. Philip's not
even looking up at her. He's staring at the floor, as if in a trance.

"Hi Sweetie," she says in a breathy
voice.

"Hi." He doesn't look up.

She takes a step closer.

He still doesn't look up.

It's fine. She's not going to be one of those
pathetic women who whine when their busy husbands don't drop everything at the
first request for romance.

He's busy.

That's okay.

It doesn't mean he doesn't love her.

She'll just work a little harder. Sometimes it
takes effort.

She remembers something she saw on television.
"Did you drop your pen?" She bends down with her bottom facing Philip.
She wiggles it a little bit.

She wiggles it more.

She gives up…at least that tactic.

She stands.

Then she begins to dance, cobra-inspired. Kind
of Indian, maybe. She dances up to Philip. Her legs touch his legs.

He's still not paying attention.

She kneels down, gets on her knees, bends
forward and grabs his pants zipper with her teeth.  She's pretty impressed with
herself.  She's never done this kind
of thing, but despite the lack of training and practice, she's doing pretty
damn good.

Jennifer!"  Philip snaps. He pushes her off his
pants. "Get up!"

She stands up and looks at him. Okay, now she's
feeling rejected.

"Did you forget we have people here?  We're working on something very
important."

She feels completely pathetic.  She didn't know. Or maybe she forgot.
It's hard to remember you might have guests when you can't even see them.  How many people are here? Did they see?

"Sorry," she says, and quickly rushes
back to their room.

She pulls off the red negligee, crumples it up,
and throws it in the trash.

She goes into the bathroom naked, sits on the
toilet, and bursts into tears.

* * *

After a short period of crying, she pulls
herself together and puts on a respectable type of nightgown; the kind of she
can wear around Taylor and Arthur.

No. She's not going to be one of those women.
She made a mistake. It's not the end of the world.  She's not mad at Philip.  His reaction is what one should expect
from someone interrupted in the middle of an important meeting by an attempted
blow job.

She brushes her teeth; then remembers she
hasn't had dessert yet. She wouldn't mind a Girl Scout cookie. They have some
Samoas in the freezer.

Maybe she should forget it, and just go to bed.

Her phone vibrates. She picks it up off her
nightstand and sees it's Trisha. Trisha wants to FaceTime.

Jennifer's not in the mood.  She'll talk to her tomorrow.

*
* *

She tries to sleep, but can't. She keeps
feeling the humiliation of the aborted blow job. And she's still craving the
Samoas

She goes down to the living room.  Philip is lying flat on his stomach, as
he had been the other day.

She quickly bypasses him, and whoever else is
with him, and goes into the kitchen.

She takes a Samoa out of the freezer and takes
a bite. It's too cold. She'll let it defrost for awhile. There are some dishes
in the sink. She'll do some washing, and by the time she's done, the cookie
will be ready.

She turns on the water and squeezes some soap
onto the sponge. She begins washing, and it's rather soothing. Kind of
meditative.

Then she hears footsteps behind her.  She decides not to turn around. Philip
had his busy time, and now it's hers. If she turns around, she might look
desperate, and that's a turn off.

Her slaps her on the behind. Hard. She wasn't
expecting that. It's not something he's done before. But you know what. She
likes it.

Jennifer starts to turn around.

"Face the sink," he says in a stern
voice.  Kind of harsh. To her
surprise, she likes that too.

With his leg, he roughly spreads her legs
apart.

She's
so wet.

He pulls up her nightgown. "Don't turn
around," he says.

She hears him unbuckling his pants.
Instinctively, she spreads her legs even farther apart.

One
of his hands goes to her forearm. His grip is tight and strong. The other hand
clutches her hip. He pulls her into a bending position. Her butt sticks
out.

She feels him enter, and as soon as be
begins thrusting, she feels the beginning of her orgasm. It embarrasses her to
some degree. They just started!

"I love you," he whispers in her
ears.  "I want to—"

He's interrupted by the sound of the front door
opening.

Immediately, he pulls out of her. Then he
quickly pulls his pants back up.

He pats her on the bottom again. "The kids
are home.  Oh well."

She has the urge to grab him and force him to
continue, but figures that wouldn't be attractive.

* * *

In bed that night, they have quiet unexciting
sex. But it's still nice. Jennifer appreciates it. She feels loved, and she
feels lucky to be in bed with the man she loves with all her heart.

Now he's sitting up, reading something on his
lap top.

She thinks about getting her own laptop, but
it's in the office, and she doesn't feel like getting it.

Her phone's on her nightstand. She'll look at
that instead.

There's a text from Trisha: There were more of those foul-smelling EB's
today.

Trisha can be a pest sometimes. She already
told her not-living friend that it was fine. Still. She thinks of mentioning it
to Philip, but then changes her mind. It'll annoy him.

She clicks on her email icon.

Philip reaches under the covers and strokes her
thigh. She smiles at him. He smiles back. Then he goes back to his reading, and
she returns to her emails.

There's one from Loretta.

G'Day
Sis!

I
hope you and Philip are doing well.

I
heard from Brenda that Arthur's in town.
(How in the hell does Brenda know that) I
imagine you and Philip are very happy. He has some kind of audition? I'm not
sure if I understood  Brenda
correctly.  I wish him luck, though
I don't think he needs it. He has so much talent. It's
only time before we see him accepting one of those Oscars.

On
to other things.  I have big
news!  We're coming to visit!!!  Well, just Mia and I. Or Mia and me. Why
is it that bad grammar sometimes sounds better than correct grammar?

Anyway.
Yes, we're coming to visit.  William
still has to work, so he's going to stay behind. We're actually going to stop
in San Francisco first; then we'll come to Atlanta. We have friends (from
Hawaii) and they'll be visiting family in SF. So we thought we'd meet
there.

We
bought tickets for August 1-20.
We'll be in Atlanta on the 11.
I hope you guys will be in town!

I
can't wait to see you!  It's been so
long!

How
are you doing? How's Philip? Is he still working on that huge project?  How's Zoe and
Taylor?

Well,
I'll talk to you soon, and I'll actually SEE you soon!!!

Love,

Loretta

Jennifer thinks her sister's email is
annoying.  Something about it
seems...maybe fake?  Still, she
loves her sister and is happy she's coming to visit.

"Philip?"

"Yes?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

He turns to her. "What's wrong?"

"Oh. Nothing. I just wanted to tell you
that Loretta's coming to visit in August."

"Great," he says. "That's
good.  It's about time they did. I
really don't understand people who flee the country."

"Yeah," she says. It does bother her
that Arthur moved all the way to London, though maybe not as much as it bothers
Philip.

"I guess it's better than dating a dead
person," Philip says. "I still can't believe it."

"It probably won't last," Jennifer
says, trying to make him feel better.

"I'm guessing your sister is going to need
help with the plane tickets."

"No," Jennifer says, surprised that
he's assumed this. "You know, their restaurant's doing really well."

He scoffs. "We'll see how long that
lasts."

"Yeah," she says.

"I'm willing to help if they need
help."

"You're very generous," Jennifer
says.

He smiles at her. "Let's get to
sleep."

He closes his laptop, gets out of bed, and puts
it on his dresser.

She watches him as he walks back to the
bed.  He's very handsome.

She's lucky.

Chapter
Fifty

Jessica and Jesse
sing as she packs her small suitcase. "Dancing Queen".  Neither of them knows the lyrics.  They're being completely silly.

As
she closes her suitcase, Jesse stops singing and asks, "Is it crazy for me
to be dating a living girl?"

"As crazy as me being in love with my gay
best friend." Best friend.  She
throws the words around in her head. Can they really be best friends?  Their friendship really didn't begin
until a few weeks ago. But now they spend almost all their free time
together.  It's almost like they're
married. She sighs.

"You'll find someone one day," Jesse
says.

"Yeah," she says, with a small
smile.  But actually, she doesn't
care. For now, she's happy with the way things are. She's happy for Taylor and
Jesse. Her favorite uncle and her favorite roommate dating each other.  It's really weird, but screw it.  So is life in general.

She's really excited about going to Atlanta
this weekend. It will be great to be with Taylor, Frankie, and Jesse. Then on
top of that....Okay, she's kind of excited to be doing a sleepover with Bernard
Kennedy's husband. She's tempted to do a vague post on Twitter about it.  But A) she doesn't really do Twitter
much and B) it would be cheesy.

Maybe though...maybe Arthur will
FaceTime Bernard while they're all there. How awesome would that be?

Okay, but most of all, it's not the celebrity
thing. Jessica's homesick. She's been homesick for a long time. She's tired of
sleeping alone in the apartment. A good old fashioned American sleepover sounds
fantastic.

Hey! Maybe they can make
s'mores—something very American.

* * *

Zoe reads Little
Blue and Little Yellow to the kids. Then little Jonathan farts. Loudly.
Carla, sitting next to him, starts giggling.  He just sits there, trying to pretend it
didn't happen. To Zoe's horror, she starts laughing.  The kids stare at her. Some giggle,
maybe because they heard the fart too. Or maybe it's just funny for them to see
their teacher laughing.

She takes a deep breath, and tries to go back
to reading. She can't.

She keeps laughing.

Finally, she manages to say. "Enough
reading!  Let's go play."

She hopes the kids don't tell their parents,
though she knows it's pretty much hopeless.

* * *

Jennifer reads an email from her husband. He's
gone out somewhere this morning.

Since
the kids are gone tonight, I thought we'd go to a nice hotel. We'll have a
romantic evening, just the two of us.

Go out and buy yourself something nice!
No better yet. Buy yourself a lot of nice things.

You
deserve it.

I
love you more than anything.

Jennifer
smiles. Then she starts singing, "Eye of the Tiger". Why that
song?  She doesn't know. Songs just
pop into her head sometimes.

Maybe tonight, she'll sing for Philip.

And….She'll do a lot more besides that.

*
* *

Arthur talks to Bernard on FaceTime. He's home
early from the set today.

"When are you coming home?" he asks,
whining a bit. Arthur loves it.

"Soon," he says. "Maybe
Wednesday."

"But you're having fun?"

"Yeah.  I actually am."

Bernard pouts. "Without me."

Arthur laughs. "I wish you were
here."

"Me too. But seriously. I'm glad you're
having fun. Don't think of me too much, sitting here alone, on the weekend, in
the flat."

"I'll think about you a lot,” Arthur says.

Bernard sighs. "I have a confession."

"What?"

"I cheated."

Arthur knows, right away, what he's referring
to. "Not meat, I assume."

Bernard shakes his head.

"Was it cheese or ice-cream?"

"Both."

"Oh no."

"I need you around to keep me in
line."

"That's kind of emotional blackmail."

"Yeah.  So be it."

"I'll be home soon," Arthur promises.

"I might eat more ice-cream tonight."

"The cows will forgive you."

"No, they won't actually." Bernard
says.

"No, you're right.  They won't.  But I still love you."

* * *

Jessica hears Frankie's footsteps, and then his
knock.  She opens the door and sees
his adorable freckled face. She reallywants to kiss
it, but she has great self control.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Yes," she says, and moves back so he
can come in.

He goes into the small kitchen and opens the
refrigerator. He grabs two bottles of water.

"Just help yourself," she says.

"Thanks," he says.

"Hey, my uncle wants to remind you to
drive safely."

"I'll do my best," Frankie says.  He looks at her small suitcase near the
door.  "So, is it against your
book of rules for me to offer to carry that for you?"

Jessica smiles.   No. It's fine. You can
offer."

He walks over to it and pretends to have a hard
time picking it up. "Is it against the rules for me to refuse to carry
it?"

"Definitely."

"Ah!"  Frankie says; then smiles. "Well,
then I'm going to be a rebel."

"Excuse me?"

"You carry it."

"Fine!"

"Go ahead."

"I need to use the toilet before we
go."

"Me too," he says. "You go
first."

"Ladies first?"

"No, you called it first."

She gives him a look, and then marches to the
toilet.

She takes her turn. Then he takes his.

When he comes out, she picks up the suitcase
and her backpack which is on the couch.

They head out. She puts the suitcase down
outside, so she can get her key out of her backpack to lock the door.

He picks up the suitcase and starts carrying it
down the stairs.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"It turns out I'm too much of a coward to
rebel." He gives her a sad look, and she laughs.

* * *

Zoe stops at Kroger, on the way home from work,
to get goodies for the sleepover. From the cookie aisle, she gets Oreos, and
something called Tim Tams. Because the package says it's Australia's favorite
cookie. Maybe Jessica will appreciate that.

In the snack aisle, she struggles to decide
between cheese puffs and Doritos. Usually, she's more of a Doritos girl, but
right now she sort of has a craving for the puffs.

She goes with the puffs.

She
also picks up a jar of popcorn.

She heads to the candy aisle and sees black
licorice. She, Arthur, and Taylor used to love that. Oh, and there's Australian
black licorice. Great! Another way they can honor their Aussie guests. She
picks up a package of that.

Zoe remembers Keith once told her that one of
their most early lives were as Australian Aborigines.  Was he serious? She's still not
sure.

He probably was.

Okay.
What else should she get?

Definitely something chocolate.

She looks at all the choices. Then she thinks
of Taylor. Should she get something healthy for her…just in case?  Like fruit?  She might not appreciate all this junk.

Zoe thinks about it for a few minutes; then
decides against it. What if Taylor feels pressured by the healthy stuff and
decides she should eat only that?
Zoe pictures the rest of them (living, at least) eating cheese puffs and
cookies, while Taylor slowly nibbles apple slices.

Thinking of apple slices makes Zoe actually
crave apples. Grapes too.

Screw it.
She'll buy some, and if Taylor goes all health crazy, she'll force feed
her the cheese puffs.

She grabs a big bag of Reese's Pieces. Then she
heads to produce, deciding to skip the apples and get more summer fruit
instead. She grabs purple grapes, and a package of raspberries.

Then she gets a text.  She takes her phone from her purse. It's
from Taylor. Hey! Jessica wants s'mores.
Can you please get GC, marshmallows, and Hershey's. Thanx!

Zoe
heads back to the candy aisle, then the cookie aisle, and then struggles to
find marshmallows.

* * *

Jennifer tries on the third dress she brought
into the dressing room. It's not the type of thing she usually wears. It shows
a bit of cleavage.  She wonders if
Philip will like it.

For now, she steps out of the dressing room
where Trisha is supposedly waiting.
She looks at herself in the full length mirror, then texts Trisha. What do you think?

Trisha texts back. You look beautiful!

Thank
you.

Jennifer goes back into the dressing room, and
starts to try on the more intimate items she brought in.  She doesn't think she'll show these to
Trisha.

First, she tries on the pink. It makes her look
like a seventy-year-old trying to look sixteen.

She tries on the turquoise next.  It's sweet, but maybe too sweet.  There's nothing sexy about it.

The black makes her look old.

Jennifer's beginning to feel pathetic and
hopeless.

Maybe she should forget it.

Though she has one more thing to try on. It's
purple and has a majestic quality.

She'll try it.

When she puts it on, she looks at herself in
the mirror. She doesn't look like young royalty, but she looks fairly all
right.  Her legs look good, at
least.

She'll buy it.

* * *

Arthur heads to his old childhood bedroom, the
one he's been sleeping in the past few days. He passes Taylor's room and hears
an Aussie accent, along with his sister's giggling.

He smiles. He likes seeing (and hearing) his
sisters being happy.

He doesn't listen in for long, but does hear
something about s'mores and the food that ghosts eat.

He walks to his room, goes in, and shuts the
door.

He looks at his bookshelf.  Some of his old books are still there.
Maybe he'll read one.

He decides on Interview with a Vampire, an old favorite.

He starts to read, but after a few pages begins
to get sleepy.

He decides a nap won't hurt.  They probably won't get much sleep
tonight.

* * *

Zoe talks to Keith while she does some basic
dusting of the apartment.

"I'm going to EB tonight if it's okay with
you," he says.

"I wish EB's could help wash dishes."

"Sorry," he says. "I guess there
are downsides to all of this."

She stops dusting and looks at the computer
screen.  She thinks of making a
joke, but instead just says.
"I love you, and it's worth it."

"I agree," he says.

* * *

Jennifer closes the garage door with the
remote.  She gets out of the car,
opens the trunk, and takes out her two shopping bags.

She walks in and finds Philip lying flat on the
living room floor again.

She tiptoes past him. They'll talk later. It's
not good to bother him when he's doing this work.

"Jennifer?"

She turns around.

Philip’s climbs out of the lying down position.

"So, you went shopping?" he says.

"Yeah.  You told me I should?"

"Good!" he says. "I can't wait
to see what you bought." He motions for her to come closer.  She does.  He sits on the couch and takes her hand.  He looks up at her. "You're
beautiful," he says.

She blushes. "Do you really think
so?"

"I do."

"I'm getting old."

"So are we all," he says. "But
you're as beautiful today as you were when we first met."

Jennifer loves when he's nice like this.

Then he makes a face. It's not nice. He looks
disgusted. Is it her?

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"Do you smell that?"

She doesn't smell anything.

"It's horrible."

"What is it?"

"It's like that smell—the one that
some of the EB's have. But it's worse. Stronger." He gags a bit.  It's awful."

Jennifer sniffs the air, trying to smell it.
She still can't.

Philip uses her hand to pull himself up. The he
gently drops it.

He sniffs around, and like a dog, follows the
scent.

She follows him.

"I think it's coming from upstairs."

He starts climbing the stairs.  She follows. He turns around. "Stay
down here," he says sternly.

She obeys.

Then she remembers she left her purse in the
car.

She heads out to get it.

* * *

Jessica, Frankie, and Jesse play twenty
questions in the car.

Jesse interrupts the flow of the game.
"After this round, I'm going back to Taylor."

"You love going back and forth,"
Jessica says.

"I do," Jesse says, then returns to
the game.  "Is it made of
wood?"

"It's an animal!"  Jessica laughs. "How would it be
made of wood?"

"Sorry.  I missed that." Then to Frankie, he
says.  "I saw that."

"Saw what?" Jessica asks.

"He forgot to use his blinkers
again."

"Bad, Frankie!" she says.

"Sorry!"

"Now keep guessing," Jessica says.

* * *

Arthur's on a sailboat with Bernard. They're
having a serious discussion about Full
House, and then start arguing about whether or not Bob Saget also starred
on How I Met Your Mother.

Then he hears yelling.

He wakes up, and when the yelling doesn't
vanish, his heart pounds frantically.

He hears his sister and their dad.

This isn't normal.

Taylor doesn't fight with their parents. That's
Arthur's job.

It sounds like they're trying to kill each
other.

He jumps out of bed and runs to her room. The
door's opened.

Arthur steps in and can't believe what he's
seeing.

Taylor's on the floor, and their father is
straddling her.

She's screaming.  He's yelling.

What is he doing to her? Arthur can't really see.
He can only see the back of his father.

"Dad!" he yells. "Stop it!  Let go of her!"

"I hate you!" Taylor screams.
"You're a disgusting pig! You should rot in hell. You're a pathetic piece
of shit!"

"Shut up!" Philip says. "You
can't talk to me like that!  I'm
your father!"

She growls.

Arthur hears a slap.

Then he hears a horrible gurgling noise. He’s
trying to strangle her!

Arthur starts to cry. He looks down at his
hands. They're trembling.  It's all
gone to hell.

"Stop it!" he yells.

Neither of them listens.

He grabs onto his dad, and tries to drag him
off his sister.

He can't manage it.

The gurgling continues.

Arthur looks around the room. He sees the heavy
medicine ball. He has to save his sister.

He grabs the ball and crashes it, as hard as he
can, onto his father's head.

He crumples to the side, and Arthur can see
Taylor now.  Vomit is flowing out of
her mouth, and she's gagging on it.
He pushes his father out of the way, and picks up Taylor. She vomits all
over his shoes.

* * *

Jennifer comes into the house with her purse
and the mail.  She hears loud
crying, and rushes upstairs to Taylor's room.

She sees her husband lying on the ground.  He's covered in blood. It's coming from
his arms and chest.

Jennifer screams.

Then she sees her son and daughter.  Neither of them cares about their
father. Arthur's sitting, leaning against the bed. Taylor leans against him,
and he's stroking her hair. There's blood
on her mouth and chin.

"He tried to kill her," Arthur
says.  Her son looks insane. He's
lying. Jennifer has no doubt about that. With fury she says. "What did you
two do?"

She doesn't wait for their answer.  She drops down, and checks her husband's
pulse. She can't find one, but then she looks at his chest.  It's moving.  From here though, she can see he has
cuts all over his arms.

"He was trying to kill her," Arthur
says. Then he starts sobbing.

"Daddy," Taylor whimpers.

"Shut up!" Jennifer snaps at her.
Then she notices the scissors lying on the floor. The tips are covered in
blood.

"I didn't mean to do it," Taylor
says. She pulls away from Arthur and touches Philip. "I'm so
sorry."  She puts her hand on
his bloodied arm.

"Don't touch him," Jennifer
says.  She walks out of the room,
and goes to call an ambulance.

* * *

When the ambulance leaves with his father and
mother, Arthur begins cleaning up the mess. The blood and the vomit.

He takes a shower, but not wanting to leave
Taylor alone, he makes her go into the bathroom with him.  He sits her on the floor.

When he's done, he quickly dresses. Then he
undresses Taylor. She offers no resistance.  She's in her own world.  He has to help her step into the shower.
She stands there, and he scrubs her gently with the wash cloth.

Chapter
Fifty-One

Jessica glimpses
something in the rearview mirror and screams.

"What's wrong?" Jesse and Frankie ask
at the same time.

She turns around, and faces her cousin in the
back seat.

"I can see you!"

Frankie turns around and sees too.

They go through a red light, and almost hit a
truck.

All three of them scream.

* * *

Christina finishes up on the toilet, flushes,
and then washes her hands.

When she turns off the water, she hears three
voices: Kayla, Albert, and Lenora.
It makes no sense, because only one at a time can appear on their iPad.

Unless….

Maybe one of them is on the phone?

Why's Kayla using FaceTime to talk to them
anyway?  She doesn't do that unless
Christina's there. Why should she?
She can see and hear them without any devices.

Christina walks out of the bathroom and gasps.

Her husband's right there racing with Lenora.
Kayla is cheering them on.

"Go, Daddy!"

"What about me?" Lenora says.

"Go, Lenora," Christina whispers.

Lenora stops. "You can see me?" She
doesn't sound all that amazed.

Christina nods.

Albert stops.  "You can see us?"

Christina nods again. Their eyes meet.

"Yay!" Kayla says. "Now you're
not left out anymore!"

Albert walks over to her.

She reaches out to touch him. Her arms go right
through.

"You can't touch him!" Kayla
laughs.

"Sorry!" Christina says.  "I'm new to all of this."

"I can't believe it!" Arthur
says.  Then he looks at her with so
much love. And it's not as if this is their big reunion. That happened months
ago. They've been together every day since then. Truth be told, she's probably
spent more time with him these past few weeks than she did when he was
alive.

But there's something different about seeing
him in front of her without the help of a video screen.

"Do
you want to race with us?" Lenora asks, as if nothing here is really that
big of a deal. Then she makes a face of disgust.

Albert and Kayla do the same.

"Do you smell it, Mommy?" Kayla asks.

Her heart thumps against her chest.  But no, she can't smell it.

She sees it though.

And they're right. It looks a little like
Alfred E. Neuman.  It's grinning
wildly, and it floats towards them.

Kayla screams.

Christina reaches out to her daughter and pulls
her close. She tries to grab Lenora, forgetting that she can't.  She feels the nothingness.

Then another dark thing appears. This one
doesn't look like Alfred E Neuman.
Lenora and Kayla scream as more and more of these figures appear out of
nowhere.

"Run!" Albert says. She grabs Kayla's
hand, and then shouts out to Lenora. "Come on!"

She opens the door to their house and runs
outside with Kayla. Albert and Lenora follow. So do the dark things. The
Arcide.

They surround Lenora, swirling round and round
her.

Kayla screams. Christina cries out.

"Help me!" Lenora says. Blood gushes
out of her nose.  Then she opens her
mouth to scream and blood pours out. It runs down her chin. Christina tries to
shield Kayla's eyes.

Then she watches helplessly as Albert runs right
into the mass of darkness. He grabs Lenora. "Come on!" he shouts.
"We have to go!"  Then
without a good-bye, the two of them disappear.

"Daddy?" Kayla whimpers.

* * *

Eugene sits on the couch writing an article
about chimpanzee intelligence.  He
sees something in his peripheral vision.

He looks up and sees a monster.

It's dark and ugly—a slimy smoky phantom
thing.

Cornelia O'Keefe's voice echoes in his head.
The Arcide.

Fucking shit. And he has no doubts that this is
what he's seeing.

It comes closer and closer.

He wants to run, but instead he sits there.

When it's right at the edge of the couch, it
whispers in a language that's not English. It's a language Eugene has never
heard before. But still he understands what it's saying. "Come and join
us."

The
dark thing is now near the couch. It rises up, and then dives into his
abdomen.

He has this fantasy then. Anna's in the shower.
He enters without knocking, holding a knife. She smiles at him with that nasty
bitchy fake smile, and he stabs her. She screams. He keeps stabbing. He watches
her blood swish down the drain.

It's all so wonderful.

Then it’s not.

Eugene sees the dark thing swim out of his
stomach. It swirls around; then explodes into nothingness.

The room's clear.

Eugene tries to forget the stuff about the
shower. That wasn't me, he tells himself.

He tries to get back to writing about
chimpanzees.

His hands are shaking too much.  He can't type.

Chapter
Fifty-Two

Jennifer sits in the waiting room,
waiting.  Because that's what you're
supposed to do in a waiting room.

The room's packed with other people waiting.
Crying. Pacing. Shaking.

A doctor comes in and asks one of the waiting
to come with him. Jennifer watches them leave.

Zoe walks in.  Jennifer meets her eyes, but doesn't say
anything.

"Arthur's downstairs with Taylor,"
Zoe says. Jennifer doesn't want to hear those names. "Taylor's a
mess."

"His heart stopped in the ambulance,"
Jennifer says. "He died."

Zoe looks terrified. Good. At least she
cares...unlike the other two.

"But he's okay now?"

"No," Jennifer says.  "He's in surgery.  The doctor's don't know if they can save
him.  He might have severe brain
damage."

"But he's alive," Zoe says.

"He's alive," Jennifer says, then
realizes it doesn't matter all that much. And with that thought, she feels a
small bit of relief.  It's going to
be okay.

* * *

Arthur sits in the waiting room of the
psychiatric floor. Emergency sent them up here after a brief examination.

There was no evidence of strangulation.

His phone vibrates in his hand. He looks. It's
Bernard.

He can't answer.  He's not ready to tell his husband that
he might have killed his own father.

"Hi."

Arthur looks up and sees Zoe.  She sits down next to him and takes his
hand.  He breaks down, weeping.  She pulls him close so he's crying on
her shoulder. She runs her fingers through his hair.

After some time, he pulls himself
together.  "I'm sorry," he
says, and he's talking about everything.

"What happened?" she asks.

"I walked in, and I thought he was trying
to kill her."

Zoe sighs. "It might have been the
opposite."

He shakes his head.  "She wouldn't."

"It's all over his body. She stabbed him
with a scissors. And there were bite marks." Zoe wipes away a tear.  "He was trying to protect
himself."

Arthur starts crying again.  "I don't get it. What is it?
Schizophrenia? I thought she just had an eating disorder. And she was getting
better."

Zoe shakes her head.  "No, she's not mentally ill.  Remember?  The Arcide?"

He
nods, somewhat confused.

And then, Zoe tells him everything.

It's just as she gets to the end of the story
that the police officer arrives.

"Arthur Jenson."

"That's me," he says, quietly.

"You need to come with us," she says,
rather gently for the circumstances.
"We have some questions for you."

* * *

Jennifer feels little sorrow when the doctor
calls her into the hallway.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"He's dead?"

"No.
But there's little hope of recovery. There was too much bleeding.  His brain. We did what we could. But the
blunt trauma…."

She starts giggling.  It's all so silly and ironic. The other
day.  Philip complaining about
romantic relationships between the living and dead.  She doubts he'll complain now.

"Mrs. Jenson?  Are you okay?"  He doesn't seem too shocked by the
giggling.  Jennifer realizes he's
probably become used of that type of reaction.

There's not much reason to cry these days.

It's all going to be okay.

* * *

Zoe doesn't recognize the crying girl, with the
boy, who head towards her. But she knows who they are.

She stands up and hugs Jessica.  Then she starts crying too.

"Jesse's with her," Frankie says.
"I mean he's with Taylor."

Jessica sniffles. "He'll watch out for
her."

"Keith is here too," she says.  She wishes she could feel his presence.

* * *

The police station is crowded with people who
look terrified and depressed.

The officer, who brought Arthur in, asks him to
sit on a bench. He squeezes in between a crying woman and a teenager who's
biting her nails nervously.

He waits and waits.

It seems like forever before he's called into a
room. An interrogation room maybe?

He expects to be bombarded with angry questions.
Accused.

It's nothing like that.

The police officer seems actually sympathetic.
The good cop.

But then where's the bad cop?

Maybe he comes later.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I heard screaming. I came into the room.
And I thought my dad was attacking my sister. I tried to get him to stop. Then
I hit him over the head."

The police officer sighs.  "That stopped him?"

Arthur nods. Then he starts crying.

The police officer reaches behind her and grabs
a box of Kleenex. She hands it to Arthur. He takes a tissue and wipes his nose.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"I guess you'll have to arrest me."

"Not exactly," she says.  She sighs. "It's all a mess.  We're completely swamped.  Your family is one of many that…well, we've never seen anything like it.  It's like the world has gone to
hell."

Arthur looks down at his trembling hands.

"How's your sister?"

"She's catatonic," he says.

"I'm sorry," she says.  "Okay. So you're free to go.  But I'm going to have to ask you to stay
in town. At least for awhile.  We're
going to have further questions.
Eventually."

"Okay," he says.

Chapter
Fifty-Three

Zoe sits in the
hospital waiting room.  She looks
around and sees everyone else has been turned to ivory statues.

The door opens, and Keith steps inside.

She stands to greet him. He takes her hand.
"I need you to wake up."

She nods.

"You and Arthur need to get to the
hospital."

She opens her eyes and climbs out of bed.  She goes into the living room and steps
over Jessica and Frankie.  Jessica
opens her eyes, groaning a bit. Zoe puts her fingers to her lips. "Sssh.  Go back
to sleep."

Arthur opens his eyes.

"We need to get to the hospital," she
tells him.

* * *

They leave the college kids in the apartment with
the uneaten bags and boxes of goodies.

Zoe
drives them to the hospital.

Her phone rings. "Get that please,"
she says to Arthur.  She expects it
to be Keith, but it's Jesse.  They
talk to him via FaceTime.  He's a
mess; seems close to catatonic himself.
"There's been no change," he says.  "And they won't let me talk to
her."

"It's going to be okay," Zoe says,
but she worries it won't be.

Arthur's phone beeps. He looks at it.
"Bernard," he says. "He just bought plane tickets."  His voice cracks with emotion.

"He's a good guy," Zoe says.

Arthur nods.

* * *

When they get to the hospital, they go to the
ICU.

Their mother's waiting for them.  She doesn't look scared or devastated.
She looks happy and triumphant.

"Mom?" Zoe says.

"Hi, Zoe,"  She doesn't even look at Arthur. She's
pretending he's not there.

"Hi mom."  He tries.

She continues to ignore him.

"I just wanted to give you a chance to say
good-bye to your father." She laughs. "Well, good-bye to your father
the way he is now."

Zoe's heart pounds. Oh shit. She and Arthur
look at each other. "He's dead?"

"Not yet,"  Jennifer says.  "Not officially.  But we're going to...well, there's no
point in letting this go on."

Oh no.
How's she going to tell her mother?

Arthur starts the process, which probably isn’t
the best choice. "He can't die," he says.

"Shut up," their mother says to
him.  "I don't want to hear
anything from you."

"You're going to have to hear it from
somebody," Zoe says.

She tells her mother about the Arcide. She tells her that
their father can never die, or the world as they know
it will be destroyed.
She tells her mother that yes,
their father's going to have to live in this limbo state.

How
long?

As
long as it's possible.

When she finishes the whole explanation, her
mother slaps her hard across the face. "It's not fair," she says.
Then she walks away from them, down the hall. Away.

Zoe watches helplessly. Arthur takes her hand.
She squeezes his.

August

Chapter
Fifty-Four

It's
hot in Manhattan, even for August.

Eugene carries food home, from Shake Shack, he
can't really afford. But he's treating himself anyway, because he's been good
lately. He's watching his money carefully. He's writing a lot, and he's even
gotten himself a second job at a comic book store. He actually has Sebastian to
thank for that. Sebastian's parents knew someone who knew someone and....Well,
there you go.

He enters his building, greets the doorman, and
then takes the elevator up.

He unlocks the door and sees Anna sitting there
on the couch. She's surrounded by papers and has his laptop in her lap.

"Hi!" she says, very casually.

"Why are you here?" he asks.
"And what are you doing?"

"Reading everything you've ever
written," she says with a sly smile. "Fascinating stuff."

He laughs. "Are you serious?"

"Very," she says.  "But I'm going to take a break. And
you're going to share all that food with me."

She grabs the papers and puts them neatly in a
pile. Then she gently places them, on the coffee
table, under the Sydney Opera House paperweight. He sits down next to her. She
takes the frozen custard from him and starts drinking.

"Save some for me," he says.

"We'll see," she says; then goes back
to drinking.

* * *

Dennis sits on his couch between two adorable
little girls—his granddaughter Kayla and her little Australian friend
Mia.  They each have a laptop, in
their laps, and they're playing Minecraft. Dennis builds a cobblestone palace
in his world. Kayla fights zombies with a sword made of stone. Mia shears a
flock of multi-colored sheep.

In the other room, Dennis's daughter drinks tea
and chats with Mia's mother.

"Grandpa, look! Look!" Dennis looks
over at her granddaughter's screen.
Another zombie slayed. She picks up the zombie flesh.

"Look at mine!" Mia says. The two
have been competing for his attention the last hour. It's a miracle he's got
any of his own building done. And he has only a little bit more time left until
the meeting.

"When are your friends getting here?"
Kayla asks.

"Soon," he says.

"One of my friends has gone away,"
Kayla says sadly. "My daddy too. They're gone now.  To the Other Side.  I can still talk to them, but it's not
the same. My mommy says I shouldn't talk to you about that, but—"

"It's fine," Dennis says, and it sort
of is."

"My Daddy's in Australia," Mia
says.

"That's not as far away as the Other
Side," Kayla says.

"It's pretty damn far," Mia
says.

The doorbell rings.

"Is that your friends?" Kayla asks.

"I think so," Dennis says.
"Remember, when they're here, you're to play in your mom's old room. Or go
outside."

"I know," Kayla says. "It's your
grown-up meeting."

"Yes," Dennis says. He stands up and
puts his laptop on the table.

He goes to the door and opens it.

"Hi!" He says to his five friends.

"Your hair is purple," Mia says to
one of them.

Rachel laughs.  "So it is," she says.
"You're very observant."

"That's a bit sarcastic," Mia
replies. "Come on, Kayla. Let's go play."

Dennis and Rachel laugh as the kids run out of
the room.

* * *

Zoe sits in her apartment eating s'mores with a
fantastic crowd— Arthur and Bernard; Taylor and Jesse; Jessica and
Frankie; her mother and her father; Mickey and her old pediatrician, Sarah
Jessica Parker and Kevin Clash.

They're all roasting marshmallows with a fire
that’s in the center of the room.

"Let's eat something healthy too,"
Taylor says.

"Sure!" Zoe gets up and goes to the
refrigerator. She opens the produce bin and finds the raspberries she bought
for the party. They're full of mold.

Then she turns around and sees Keith standing
right behind her. He looks at her with sadness.

She bursts into tears. He kisses her on the
chin, then on each cheek. He kisses her on the forehead, and then gently on the
lips.

"I love you," he says.

"I'm scared," she says.

She looks out to the living room. They're all
gone. It's just the two of them now.

"I was wondering if you want go on a
walk," he says, almost shyly. "Maybe we can have a picnic."

"Yes," she says, wiping away a
tear.  "But maybe later. I'm
going to wake up now," she says. "I need to visit Taylor."

"Okay," he says.

Before waking up, she grabs him close and
kisses him. Passionately. "I'll see you tonight," she says.

"I'll
be waiting," he says.

She opens her eyes and finds herself in her
bedroom.

The sun shines through the blinds.